Stop all the clocks
by peridotgreen
Summary: The reaping has returned, and as Katniss' son is thrown into the arena with Gale's son, her daughter takes a trip back in time to save Prim and stop the Hunger Games from ever being re-instated. [Set during Mockingjay]
1. Chapter 1

**Stop all the clocks: A Bad Beginning**

Knock, knock.

"Mum they're here," I called up the stairs as I ran to the front door and yanked it open.

Standing behind it were my mum's old friend Gale Hawthorne and his family; his wife Johanna Mason and their two children. Their son Taylor was two years older than me at eighteen, and their daughter Laurel was a year older than me at seventeen. She and I had never gotten along particularly well; I found her spoilt and superficial and she looked down on me for getting my hands dirty playing outside and baking. Apparently in District 2 girls don't do that sort of thing. But Taylor and I were fast friends and had been for as long as I could remember. He gave me a crooked smile when he saw me and pulled me into one of his rib-cracking hugs.

"Taylor, I c-can't breathe," I managed to stammer out. He let go of me, laughing.

"Sorry Molly, I forget how fragile you are." My name's really Margaret but everybody calls me Molly.

"The problem isn't that I'm 'fragile' the problem is that you're like eight feet tall!" I retorted, sticking my tongue out at him very maturely. I then turned to Gale, "it's lovely to see you again Mr Hawthorne, won't you all come in and make yourselves at home. Mum's just upstairs trying to find the tablecloth and Dad's putting the finishing touches to the Christmas dinner. The others are already in the living room." By "the others" I meant Haymitch, Effie Trinket, Annie Odair and her son Finnbar and my mum's mother; the people we always have round on Christmas day. I think my parents like to have a full house on days like this; it helps to keep them from thinking of all the people that should be here but aren't. Auntie Prim. Mum's father. Daddy's parents.

The list goes on.

In the living room everybody's chatting and exchanging gifts. My twelve-year-old brother Dylan was unwrapping the cat's Christmas presents for her, as, lacking opposable thumbs, Daisy couldn't manage it herself. Don't ask me why our cat has presents; Dylan buys them for her. He loves that thing. I do not. And from the way Daisy growls every time she sees me I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual. Taylor smiled at me, bringing me out of my reverie, and pushed a small, square parcel into my hand.

"What's this? We don't usually get each other presents Taylor."

"I know, but you having this is going to benefit me too." He said with a secret smile.

I scowled and opened the wrapping, discovering beneath it an ornate compact mirror. "If you think I need to improve my personal grooming there are subtler ways of saying it." I told him, eyebrow raised.

"No silly, open it and look into the glass."

I did as I was told (a rarity for me) and was shocked to see not myself reflected in its smooth surface but Taylor. I turned to him to see he was holding a similar mirror in his own hands.

"They're video messaging devices, disguised as mirrors," he explained to me. "I thought they could help us keep in touch when my family and I leave tonight and go back to District 2."

Taylor and I had always hated parting. Once, when he was 10 and I was 8 we actually packed a sandwich and a spare outfit each and attempted to run away together. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the air smelt of honeysuckle; it was one of those perfect times when anything seems possible. Of course, we didn't get further than the Meadow before our parents caught up with us; turned out Greasy Sae had seen us on our way and ratted us out. This compact was the perfect present.

"Thank you Taylor," I said sincerely.

"Hopefully that thing will reduce our phone bill slightly," my Dad joked from behind me. "Your mother and I actually have another present for you too Molly." With that my mum appeared behind him holding a little black velvet box. She handed it to me silently and everybody watched as I lifted the lid to reveal the most beautiful necklace I'd ever seen. They'd hung mum's mockingjay pin on a pure gold chain for me.

"But this is yours," I said to mum, disbelieving.

"Well now it's yours," she told me firmly.

I embraced her and Dad, whispering my thanks to them, then we all went into the dining room for Christmas dinner.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of good cheer and high spirits. Until our bubble was burst by the ten o'clock news.

"Hello Panem," the fateful reporter's affected Capitol accent rang out. "Happy Christmas, it is my pleasure on this very merry day to hand over to our new President, Leila Hope, for a very special announcement."

President Hope's face appeared on the screen. She was a fairly attractive woman in her fifties with navy blue hair and crimson lips. "Hello Panem," she said. "I am delighted to announce that this year will see a treat for all of us; the return of one of the nation's favourite forms of entertainment. I'm sure you'll all join me in celebrating the return of the Hunger Games!"

The room fell silent. The first voice to speak was Haymitch's: "there's no way they'll get away with this. The people follow their mockingjay, not some namby pamby woman calling herself our leader."

There was a murmur of agreement from the room. But then President Hope opened her blood-red mouth again.

"Of course this decision has been taken with great care. The final call was made by a panel made up of those most qualified in this area."

"Who?" My mum yelled, outraged. "None of her pathetic government know what it's like in there!" She was close to screaming, her eyes filling with desperate tears. Daddy put his strong, reassuring arm around her and tried to comfort her. The screen cut from the President's mansion to a group of people. They were voting on whether or not to have another Hunger Games. My breath caught in my throat as I recognised younger versions of Johanna, Haymitch and my parents amongst them.

"People that have experienced the games themselves," Hope's voice continued.

"It seems very fair to me. I vote yes." Young Johanna declared.

"I vote yes . . . For Prim," my young mother declared. She looked so battered and withdrawn and the TV quickly cut, without warning, to a shot of the bomb that killed my aunt. Emotive, thoughtless, tactless. That was the Capitol for you. I heard my mother give a sort of breathless sob next to me.

Young Haymitch then spoke. "I'm with the mockingjay," he said.

"Just as I hope the rest of you will be," President Hope said as the screen cut back to her. I notice that they've cut out whatever my Dad and Annie said. Considering their mild temperaments they were probably both against it.

"I don't think we're going to be able to get out of this." Gale said matter-of-factly.

"No," my Mum said. "The people will follow their mockingjay. If it weren't for that footage people would probably rebel. But now . . . I don't think there's any escape."

I felt like I'd been punched in the chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Name Game**

The weeks after Christmas passed in a blur. Mum withdrew into herself; she'd leave the house to go hunting before the sun rose and return after it set. The first few times I went with her, but it wasn't a pleasant experience; she seemed to be taking her anger out on woodland creatures and she refused to speak in more than three word sentences. Eventually I gave up and just went hunting on my own if I got the urge.

Dad was the opposite; he spent more time with Dylan and I in those precious weeks before the reaping than he'd ever done before in our lives. We'd bake cookies together, or paint together, or go for a long walk and talk about all our early memories, one time he even took us to District 4 for the weekend; we got to visit grandma and go swimming in the lakes. In all honesty I think his approach was more painful than Mum's; it told me that he thought he was going to lose us.

I'm not stupid. I know that Mum killed the last President. That neither she nor Dad are on particularly good terms with anybody in central government other than Gale Hawthorne. But I also don't think they'd be allowed to fix the reapings to use Dylan and I to punish our parents for this. I voiced this thought to Taylor one day via our two-way mirrors. He told me he thought I was being a little naïve. And Taylor has a tendency to sugar coat things for me. By "a little naïve" he meant that he thought I was being a blithering idiot.

Eventually the day in question rolled around. Mum dressed me up in a green dress that Effie Trinket had bought me for my 16th Birthday, then she and Dad kissed me and told me that everything would be fine. But their eyes were telling me something very different.

We were all gathered together in the square, separated from our parents and siblings, and made to listen to some ridiculous pro-Capitol propaganda before Effie announced that my parents would be joint mentors this year. I'd known this already of course. But a lot of other people hadn't. My peers' eyes swivelled towards me and I knew what they were thinking; that if they were reaped, and died, my parents would be partially to blame. When Effie called out "ladies first", drawing everybody's attention back to the stage I was actually a little grateful to her.

It seemed to take her a ridiculously long time to fumble in the bowl for a slip of paper and open it. I thought of the Seam kids who'd been forced to take tesserae, whose odds of being picked were many times those of the rest of us. Then I thought of myself; if what Taylor said was right, and he had more experience of the Hope government than me, then my odds of being picked were even higher than those of the Seam kids. I held my breath and sent a silent prayer to a God I wasn't sure I believed in. _Not me. Please not me. I don't want to die like that; with everybody watching, with the blood of other children on my hands. Please not me._

"Abigail Wood," Effie's voice called out. I can't say I ever really knew Abigail. Her Dad owned a butcher's shop across from Daddy's bakery so I saw her sometimes and we'd exchanged words but we were never friends. I was incredibly grateful for that fact in this moment, as I watched the skinny brunette climb onto the stage, trying not to cry. I felt like the world's worst person. This girl had pretty much just been handed a death sentence and all I could feel was elated that it wasn't me. I knew they wouldn't fix it, Taylor's such a cynic. I thought of going home tonight, back to my safe, warm bed. I thought of the sunshine coming through the leaves of the trees in the meadow on a summer morning, of the way snowflakes tasted on my tongue, of all the little things I thought might be taken from me today. Honeysuckle. Cookies. That stupid cat.

"Dylan Mellark."

My blood froze. No. This can't be happening. This just can't be happening.

I looked across at my baby brother, with his hesitant steps and his mop of fluffy blonde hair that made him resemble a baby chicken.

NO.

"I volunteer as tribute."

I heard myself say it before I realised what I was going to do. I started running towards the stage, trying to grab Dylan. I managed to wrap my arms around him and clung to him as Peacekeepers tried to peel me off him.

"I'm afraid you can't volunteer for a boy dear," Effie said, pain evident in her voice.

"Then I volunteer in exchange for . . ." Shoot. I couldn't even remember the girl's name. I really am a terrible person.

"Abigail?" Effie supplied.

"Yes, Abigail," I replied. I would go in there and make sure my baby brother came out alive. Alone he didn't stand a chance. Abigail looked ecstatic.

"I'm sorry Molly, I called out for volunteers and you didn't say anything. The time has passed. Let go of your brother." The pain is evident in Effie's voice, but I hate her for this. I know the Capitol is making her do this to me, but I will NEVER forgive her. Ever.

"NO," I start screaming and thrashing as strong hands peel me off Dylan. "No Dylan, no, come back."

I feel a small pinprick in my arm, and everything goes black.

**[A/N: reviewing will make me update faster]**


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N: Thanks for the reviews, I hope you enjoy this chapter!]**

**Chapter 3: A Heavy Burden**

I woke up in my own bed, safely tucked under the covers, with moonlight streaming in through my window, and for a moment I couldn't remember what had happened. Then I peeled back the covers and saw that horrid green dress Effie bought me clinging to my skin, and it all came flooding back to me. The reapings. Poor Abigail. And Dylan.

Where was Dylan? What had they done with my baby brother?

I jumped out of bed and spotted a hastily scrawled note on my bedside table.

_Dear Molly,_

_I'm sorry we didn't get to say goodbye in person, but Haymitch promised me he'd get this to you after he carried you home tonight. He assured me that the drug the Peacekeepers sedated you with wasn't dangerous and that you wouldn't be seriously hurt. I hope he's right. I guess I'll never know. I wanted to let you know that what you did for me back there, trying to take my place . . . It meant the world to me. When I die I want you to have all my stuff. I don't care what you do with it; keep it, sell it, burn it. But I want you to have it. Also, please take care of Daisy. She needs feeding twice a day and I'd appreciate it if you gave her a cuddle once in a while since I won't be around to do it._

_I'm scared of course, but I've made peace with my fate. We'll see each other again some day, in this world or in another. I love you very much Molly and I know you love me too so you don't need to feel guilty that you didn't have another chance to say it to me after my name was called._

_Stay safe and stay strong,_

_Love Dylan_

That was my brother for you; facing near-certain death and still worrying about everybody but himself. I was horrified to see that my tears were leaking onto the page and smudging his writing so I quickly locked his letter away in my bedside cabinet and curled up in a ball on the floor, trying to block out everything that had happened. My brother was gone. My parents had left with him. I was all alone. I was probably going to watch my brother die in a few days' time. And I didn't even get to say goodbye because I'm so rash and stupid. I hated the way he talked about his death as if it were inevitable.

As if sensing my pain Daisy came and nestled into my chest. At first I tried to push her away but one look at her pathetic face reminded me of Dylan's letter and his plea that I cuddle his beloved pet. It occurred to me that Daisy and I were probably feeling a similar pain at the moment; Dylan had never spent a night away from home in his life. She must have known that there was something wrong.

I don't know how long I laid like that, crying in a ball and hugging Daisy. Hours maybe. But eventually I pulled myself together enough to realise that I needed help, that I couldn't face this on my own. I ran to our phone and tried calling Haymitch. No answer. I tried calling Annie and Finnbar. No answer. I tried calling my parents, even though I knew their phones would have been confiscated from them as soon as they got on the train. By this time I was working myself into a bit of a frenzy.

I was so happy when I dialled the Hawthornes and somebody picked up that I almost dropped the phone.

"Hello?" Laurel's cold and irritated voice rang down the line. Of course it would be ice woman who answered.

"Laurel," I said a little breathily and desperately. "I need to speak to your brother. Now".

No reply.

"Please?" I added as an afterthought.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Laurel asked, her voice murderous. I had heard Laurel sound whiny, I had hear Laurel sound mean, but I had never heard her sound this angry before in my life. "WHO IS THIS?" She continued.

"Molly," I replied in a voice that sounded about as broken as I felt.

"Don't you know?" She asked her voice incredulous.

"Know what?"

"I can't pass you onto my brother Molly, and even if I could I don't think you'd want to talk to him." I could almost hear her shaking her head as she said those words. Despite being only a year older than me Laurel loved looking down on me and thinking she knew things I didn't.

"Why not?" I asked, trying to sound a little less pathetic and desperate because she was annoying me.

"Because within a few weeks' time he's probably going to be either (a) dead or (b) the man that killed your little brother."

**[A/N: Read and review]**


	4. Chapter 4

**[A/N: Thanks so much to everybody that reviewed your kind words mean the world to me! I'm afraid chapters 4, 5 and 6 aren't very long but they'll get longer after that I swear! Hope you enjoy this chapter, as always reviews are greatly appreciated]**

**Chapter 4: The Suicide Mission**

In my battered state it took a few moments for the implications of her statement to set in. No. Not Taylor too, I put the phone down. Maybe I should have been nicer to Laurel; we were both little girls with our brothers stuck in the Hunger Games. Maybe we should have cried together and discussed our happy memories of Taylor and Dylan. But Laurel and I had never been friends and I saw no point in pretending now.

So two men . . . No, two BOYS I loved were in the Hunger Games. No matter who won I would lose. Of course my allegiance was with Dylan; blood runs thicker than water. But Taylor's the only real friend I've ever had. The thought of losing him makes me sick too. By this point I was feeling very self-pitying and readying myself to go cry on the floor some more like the pathetic little girl I thought I was. But then a sound outside pulled me out of my reverie.

A car was pulling up outside the house next door; Haymitch's house. Nobody in District 12 has a car. In fact nobody in any district has a car. Which can only mean one thing; this visitor came from the Capitol. I peeked out the window and saw Haymitch welcome the car's driver into his home and I was suddenly furious. I had called Haymitch first. If he had prioritised me the way he prioritised this man, getting up at close to 4am in the morning for him, then I wouldn't have found out about Taylor whilst in such a fragile state and I wouldn't be staggering under the weight of all the terror hitting me at once. I stormed over to his house to give him a piece of my mind, barefoot and still in the ridiculously fancy green dress Effie had picked out.

He'd left his door unlocked as usual and I slipped in without a sound, stopping dead at the sound of urgent voices coming from his living room. Usually I wouldn't snoop, but I was heartbroken and more than a little bit crazed in that moment. I wasn't in my right mind, which makes it ok. At least, that's what I told myself.

"It's ridiculous, to test it out we'd need a human guinea pig, and I for one am not willing to risk my life trying out your insane contraption."

"There are a lot of desperate people out there Haymitch, I'm sure we can find somebody . . ."

"AND THEN WHAT? Anybody we send back could end up making things worse, no it just won't do Beetee."

I recognised that name; Beetee. He was a past Hunger Games victor. He knew my parents. They talk about him sometimes; the man with the wire and the bomb.

"Innocent children will die Haymitch; 23 a year to be precise. And it's not like the victors come out unscarred. You of all people should know that. Please, help me. We need to take action."

"I'm not volunteering for your suicide mission."

"It's not a suicide mission, there's only a slight chance the machine will kill you. It needs to be somebody smart. Somebody that knows the way your mind works. The way Johanna's mind works. The way Enobaria's mind works. The way Katniss' mind works."

"My answer is no." Haymitch said firmly.

I felt the anger inside of me reach boiling point. But right now it wasn't only directed against Haymitch, who was irritating me by taking a coward's way out. I understood that after all he's been through, living life day to day isn't easy, and I respected his decision enough that I didn't hate him for it. No. My anger was now directed against the Capitol. In that moment I think I would have done anything to create even the tiniest chink in their armour.

"Whatever it is I'll do it," I said, and this time my voice didn't sound broken or pathetic. It sounded strong.

**[A/N: Please read and review!]**


	5. Chapter 5

**[A/N: Thank you to everybody that reviewed! Here's the next chapter, I'm sorry it's so short, the next one will be longer!]**

**Chapter 5: One Small Step for Molly**

The two men froze. They clearly hadn't heard me sneak in.

The one called Beetee spoke first. "Let me guess . . . Katniss' daughter?" He asked.

"What gave it away; the hair or the suicidal attitude?" Haymitch sneered. I stiffened at the insult but didn't gratify him with a retort.

"Now Haymitch, the girl is willing and qualified . . ."

"I PROMISED HER PARENTS I'D TAKE CARE OF HER BEETEE. And that does not involve sending her into a dangerous past via a very questionable machine you _claim_ will work. They're probably about to lose their son, do you really want them to come home to a dead daughter too?"

I'd never heard Haymitch yell this loudly before, even when I used his wine bottles as bowling pins and ended up smashing them all to pieces. I was touched by his concern, but hearing him talk about my brother's death had solidified the resolve already forming in my stomach.

"Send me to the past? Is that what you want to do?" I asked in my calmest voice, addressing my voice not to Haymitch but to Beetee.

"Yes," he responded. "There's been a long and tedious legal case trying to prevent these Hunger Games, but one piece of evidence tipped the balance and meant that the Capitol won. It was the video of the Hunger Games victors agreeing to the reestablishment of the Hunger Games. If somebody were to go back in time and convince Haymitch, Katniss, Johanna or Enobaria to vote against the Hunger Games then their case will fall apart and there never would have been a reaping for the 76th Hunger Games."

I allowed myself for one blissful moment to imagine that. A world in which Taylor and Dylan are not only spared their lives, but are left unscarred, never having felt the pain of hearing Effie Trinket call their name. There is nothing I wouldn't do to make that dream a reality.

"Ok," I say, and Beetee's face lit up.

"Are you crazy kid?" Haymitch yelled.

"If there's a way to save them Haymitch, if there's even a chance that it'll work . . . I have to take it. Think of your Hunger Games. Think of the pain it's caused you. Think of all the people in it with you that will never come back."

Haymitch looked like I just stabbed him in the chest. I knew I was opening old wounds he'd been trying to forget, but I press on. I had to make him understand how I felt.

"Think of how you thought seeing my parents suffer in the arena. And you didn't even know them before the Games! Imagine trying to stay strong and mentor your own son, knowing his fate is in your hands, when one of the other tributes is your best friend's son."

"Alright," he said gruffly. "If you're sure this is what you want kiddo."

"I'm sure." I told him resolutely. "If you really care about me you'll stop channelling your energy into fighting me and start trying to help me."

Haymitch smiled at me. "You know sweetheart, sometimes you really remind me of your Mother."

**[A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!]**


	6. Chapter 6

**[A/N: As always thank you to those that read and review my stories]**

**Chapter 6: Journey to the Past**

An hour later I was standing in Haymitch's kitchen, ready to go. Beetee's time travel device, that resembled a thin, metal watch, was strapped to my wrist. I was wearing a much more practical outfit; black trousers and top with biker boots and my grandfather's hunting jacket. In my hand was a precious folded piece of paper detailing how to work the machine (which Beetee had named "Wiress") and giving me important information about the past. Such as what to expect in District 13 and, most importantly, a list of names entitled "people you can trust". The list was short and the list was surprising.

"I can trust Johanna Mason? Are you sure?" I asked dubiously. Johanna disliked me almost as much as Laurel did and I heard she'd been a pretty frosty character in her youth.

"Johanna tells it like it is and always has done. I'm not saying she won't hurt your feelings but she won't stab you in the back." Was Haymitch's response.

"And my parents will?" I had been shocked to see that neither Katniss nor Peeta was on the list.

"Your mother was mentally deranged and obsessed with revenge on Snow, and your father . . . Wasn't himself."

"What do you mean?"

"The Capitol messed with his head, they made him into another one of their Mutts." I knew my father had been tortured but I'd always assumed the damage had been physical. For the first time in my life I was starting to properly grasp what it meant to be Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark's daughter.

"That's terrible," I said quietly.

"I know," Haymitch replied, a softness in his tone. "But you have to be strong Molly; he isn't your mission. I know you and you're going to want to save him, because that's what you're like, but you have to resist that annoying, helpful urge. Reaching out to him may make him worse."

"Ok," I conceded.

"And you must NOT change the past beyond changing the voting," Beetee interjected. "Don't try to save anybody for the sake of it."

"And stay off the front line," Haymitch almost growled. He knew me and my taste for action too well. "I know you're handy with a bow and arrow, but your grandma's taught you a lot about medicine. You know enough to earn you a place in the District 13 hospitals; if you want to help the resistance that's how you do it. Agreed?"

"Sure," I say, crossing my fingers in my jacket pocket.

I stowed the piece of paper safely away after programming my wiress to take me to right time and place and picked up the small bag of personal belongings I was allowed to take with me. That little bag held everything that meant the most to me. Old Birthday and Christmas Cards from those I loved, my mockingjay necklace, Dylan's tiny teddy bear. Dad bought that ratty, old thing for him the day he was born. He'd slept with it every night since and it still smelt of him. I'd hesitated before taking it, feeling bad, but I knew he'd want me to have it with me. I'd dropped the cat off with Greasy Sae, who'd assured me that she would make sure Daisy was fed and that her granddaughter would make sure Daisy was cuddled. She hadn't asked where I was going; I knew she wouldn't. You can count on her not to pry.

I also packed my compact mirror from Taylor. I'd tried opening the compact mirror a few times; that would make Taylor's grow hot in his pocket alerting him to the fact that I was trying to contact him. But he hadn't opened his. I presume they made him leave it at home. It was just a beautiful little thing with no purpose now, but it reminded me of Taylor so I was still taking it.

I said a formal goodbye to Beetee and nearly fainted in shock when Haymitch enveloped me in a goodbye hug.

As my wiress started its 60 second countdown, letting me know that I was about to set off on my journey into the unknown, I gave the two men in front of me a brave smile.

"Any last pieces of advice?" I asked them.

"Yeah," said Haymitch, a smile playing on his lips. "Stay alive."

Then the wiress went off.

**[A/N: Reviewing will make me update faster!]**


	7. Chapter 7

**[A/N: I want to start by saying a huge thank you to everybody who's reviewed this story! I write for my own enjoyment but it's lovely to think that other people might be getting something out of it too! Here's the next chapter, I hope you like it. This one's a bit longer; I'm hoping the chapters will all be this sort of length or longer from now on]**

**Chapter 7: The Little Nurse**

I felt like somebody had grabbed me by the wrist the wiress was strapped too and thrown me off a cliff. Every bone in my body ached and my eyes were blinded by the harsh white light around me. For a terrible moment I thought that Beetee's device had messed up like Haymitch said it would, and that I was dead. Then I heard my mother's voice.

"Prim," she said. She sounded concerned and more than a little wary. "There's a girl here, on the floor." _Prim_. Why did that name sound familiar? I tried to remember but my foggy mind was having trouble thinking rationally and the significance of the word eluded me.

"What?" A younger girl's voice replied, shocked. "No, we haven't got any patients in that room yet."

_Patients_. So I was in a hospital of sorts. Hopefully the District 13 hospital Haymitch had mentioned, otherwise this would have been a very painful, wasted trip.

I felt small, soft hands grip my wrist, feeling for a pulse. "Her pulse is good, she seems quite healthy." The one called Prim declared. "I reckon she'll be alright if we just hook her up to some morphine, it seems like she had a nasty fall."

I felt a strange mixture of relief, that I was apparently going to be ok, and concern, because now she was closer to me I was certain that this girl was far too young to be a competent doctor of any sort, and I didn't really want her sticking needles in me. What kind of régime would have a kid like her giving medical care? She couldn't have been older than twelve or thirteen . . .

Wait. _Thirteen_. I saw the President's mansion in my head, the children in front of it blown to bits, then the second wave of bombings and the little blonde girl with the duck tail. My mother's voice floated back to me _"that's my little sister. She was only thirteen. What kind of r__é__gime would let a kid like her go on the front line?_

"PRIM!" I gasped out, sitting up rapidly and promptly banging heads with Young Katniss.

"Ow, sorry," I said.

She just glared at me. Maybe Haymitch was right about the deranged and vengeful thing.

"Do I know you?" Prim asked me softly. What was I supposed to say? _Yes I'm your neice from the future. By the way, in the future, you're dead. Nice to meet you?_

"No," I said carefully. Think Molly think. "I've heard of you. I'd just come to District 12 when they started bombing it." I lied smoothly. Then what Haymitch had said about my dad's patchy memories came back to me. That could work in my favour. "I'm a cousin of Peeta Mellark's, from District 4. Ask him about me if you want."

She gave the response I'd expected. "Peeta doesn't really remember much at the moment, sorry, but I believe you." Of course she did. I looked up at her blonde hair and trusting eyes and saw my little brother looking back at me; naïve, good, willing to give even the most undeserving the benefit of the doubt.

"How did you get here?" Katniss asked coldly. Clearly she was a little more cynical than her sister.

"I don't remember," I said. They'd found me semi-unconscious and I'm not the best liar ever, hopefully this response would prevent her digging further and getting suspicious when my cover story didn't add up. Katniss narrowed her eyes at me. Wow. I really do need to stay away from this girl.

"What's your name?" Prim asked me sweetly. I was so grateful to her for her hospitality and kindness, especially when my Mother was being so cold towards me. I felt terrible lying to her. I wanted to scream a warning to her there and then. But that wasn't my mission. I could make things worse. It took all my strength to keep my mouth shut.

"Molly," I said, figuring it couldn't hurt to give them my real first name. "Molly . . ." I looked around the room for inspiration and saw an interesting weapon propped against the door. "Trident." I said confidently. "I'm Molly Trident, it's nice to meet you."

In hindsight, I realise that "Trident" was a terrible fake surname. I was lucky neither of them turned around, saw the Trident in the corner of the room and handed me over for questioning right there and then.

"Welcome to District 13 Molly, you'll be safe here," Prim assured me. I hoped so.

"Come on little duck, we'd better go check on Mum," Katniss said. When talking to Prim she used the kindly voice that she used to use with me when I was little. A voice reserved for the few people she allowed herself to care about. It made me miss home.

"You can go Katniss, but there's something else I need to talk to Molly about first." Prim said, very seriously for a girl so young. Katniss (unsurprisingly) elected to stay, protecting her sister as fiercely as I protected Dylan.

"What do you remember about the bombings Molly?"

"Nothing." I responded warily as I wondered what she was so desperate to say to me.

"Well, I have some bad news for you," she took my hand in her tiny one and looked sincerely into my eyes. "Your aunt, your uncle, and your cousins are dead, only Peeta survived out of the Mellark family."

The pain I felt at this statement wasn't faked. I know I never knew these people, but I thought of how empty our house felt on Birthdays and at Christmas and then I imagined what it would have been like if Daddy's parents were there. If his brothers had been there, maybe with families of their own. If Prim had been there. For a moment I got lost in this fantasy. How much easier would my life have been with an Aunt as kindly as this to be there for me when my parents couldn't be? Would she have sat by my bedside after the reapings until I woke up, so that I didn't have to find myself alone in that dark, overlarge house in the middle of the night, with nothing but my grief to keep me company?

Then I looked into Prim's eyes and I realised something terrible; I was just thinking of myself again. I was cursing her death because having her around would have made my life a little bit easier. I looked into her gaze and knew that she'd never think as selfishly as that. Suddenly my desperation for her to live stemmed not from a sense of what her presence would bring to me, but a sense of how much somebody as lovely as her deserved a long life. And this made my desire to save her burn that much stronger.

_Think of the mission Molly_. I told myself, as I lay awake in my hospital bed that night. After she'd hooked me up to a few machines and done some tests Prim had been convinced to leave me alone to get some rest. I kept repeating this mantra to myself. But I knew it was useless. "Mum voted 'yes' _for Prim_," I whispered. Don't worry; there was nobody else in the room to hear me. "Surely, if I save Prim, she'll vote no?" It seemed like the best way to solve my mission. I know Beetee had said not to change the past; that I could make things worse. But I didn't see how a world with this girl in it could be anything but a better place. In that moment my mind was made up; I had a new objective, and nothing was going to stop me completing it.

Save Primrose Everdeen.

**[A/N: Reviews are greatly appreciated]**


	8. Chapter 8

**[A/N: A massive thank you to everybody that reads my work, particularly those that review it too; you guys give me the confidence to keep writing.]**

**Chapter 8: Don't Lose Touch**

I lay awake for a long time that night, trying to decide what would be the best way to keep Prim away from that bomb. When I did fall to sleep I was plagued by nightmares. I dreamt that Taylor and Dylan were fighting to the death, and that no matter how fast I ran I couldn't ever get any closer to them, to stop them. In the dream Prim appeared at my side and held a hot poker to my leg, telling me I'd killed her. At first it just felt warm and pleasant then it started to burn me and I began screaming in pain.

"Ow," I yelled, sitting up in bed, awake. My body was covered in sweat from the nightmare. It took me a second to realise that the burning sensation hadn't abated after I woke up.

"What the . . ."

I placed my hand on the area the pain was coming from and felt my fingers collide with a smooth, curved object. The mirror! I reached into my pocket and pulled it out and sure enough it was emitting heat. I didn't know how but it seemed to be working across time periods! I was going to get to talk to Taylor.

I pulled it open so eagerly, that for a moment I was scared it was broken. But I felt around its edges and it seemed to be fine. I looked into the mirror's smooth surface, expecting to see the face of my closest friend. The eyes staring back at me were identical to his, but the face framing them belonged to somebody I had much less care for.

"Laurel," I said, disappointment and irritation colouring my tone.

"Hey Molly Dolly," she said, sounding about as pleased to see me as I was to see her.

It was so stupid of me to think that Taylor could have been on the other end of the line; there's no way the Capitol would have allowed him to take such a device with him. They confiscated those sorts of things on the train, and even if they had allowed it the chances of him having it in his pocket at the reaping were so slim . . . A tear rolled down my cheek. For a wonderful moment I thought that I was going to be able to say goodbye to my best friend. Then I'd had that hope snatched from me.

"Awww Little Molly's crying," Laurel cooed. "Let me guess, you thought you were going to see my beloved brother? How thick are you?" She sneered.

I was torn between bursting into tears and yelling my head off.

"YOU ARE SUCH AN INSENSITIVE LITTLE HAG LAUREL I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL!" I screamed into the compact. Apparently I'd opted for the second choice. I snapped the compact shut, not bothering to listen to Laurel's protests; she had crossed the line. I put the compact back in my pocket and turned over, trying to go back to sleep, and trying to ignore the heat radiating off the compact that told me Laurel was still trying to contact me. I don't know how long I lay like that before I calmed down enough to realise that no matter how much Laurel had annoyed me I couldn't afford to cut her off if she was my only link to home.

I retrieved the compact and lifted the lid to reveal a Laurel that was close to tears.

"Molly please, I'm begging you," she was saying in a desperate voice. I don't think she understood how the compact worked; she seemed to think that I could hear what she was saying into it even when I closed the lid on mine.

"What Laurel?" I asked her. I sounded snappy and irritated. I made a mental note to try to speak more softly next time I opened my mouth; the last thing I needed was for her to start crying, I wouldn't have a clue what to do to comfort her.

"I'm so sorry," Laurel said, composing herself, and she sounded sincere.

"Sorry for what?" I still sounded a little bit patronising but at least my tone was borderline civil now.

"Sorry for taking my anger out on you," she said. Funny, that was exactly what I think I'd been doing to her. "I was just so upset about my brother being reaped," she continued. "That it made me angry when you dared to be sad about his fate too. I feel like, as his sister, I have more of a right to be concerned about him than you do. Although in all honesty you know him a lot better than I do. Anyway, I'm really sorry. The reason that I took this thing from underneath Taylor's pillow was because I wanted to help you."

"Why?" I asked, surprised that she cared.

"Your parents just called me. They arrived in the Capitol and tried to phone you but you weren't answering. This is the last chance they'll have to call anybody before the Interviews. I said I'd try to get through to you. I mean, obviously you can't talk to Dylan but they can pass messages on from him. All you have to do to call them back is . . ."

"Laurel," I managed to breathe out. I was the one close to tears now. "Stop. Please."

"Why, don't you want to talk to them?"

Of course I do you imbecile, that's why I want you to stop! Because I'm stuck in the past and can't possibly call them, so all you're doing is taunting me with something that I desperately want but can't have!

Of course, I didn't say this to Laurel.

"I've gone somewhere," I said, thinking on my feet. I hated lying to everybody but Beetee had said nobody in the future could know about his device; if the Capitol found out about it then they'd take it off him and use it to make the world even worse. Only people that could be relied upon like Haymitch could know, and Laurel was about as far from trustworthy as you get in my opinion. "It's somewhere remote, you won't be able to reach me here by phone and I'm staying for a while."

"Is that even allowed? I thought you _had_ to watch the Hunger Games."

"Haymitch is lying for me, telling them that I'm ill." I knew that if Laurel passed this information on there would be trouble, but, although she hated me, Laurel adored Haymitch. So I doubted she'd say anything that might get him into a sticky situation.

"Oh," she said. "Do you not want to watch the Games? I mean, I know it's difficult to see people you love suffer but I couldn't bear not knowing what's going on." She had a point. I was going to be sat here with no clue if Dylan was alive or dead.

"I can't watch them," I said, truthfully. "I'm doing something . . . Important. I can't leave to watch them, even if I wanted to."

Laurel would usually pry, but today she seemed to be in a lenient mood.

"They do a recap of the most important events in the games ever night at 8pm," she informed me. "If you like I could open the compact then and put it in front of the screen so you know how they are?"

That was the single nicest thing Laurel had ever said to me. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

"Laurel, that would be amazing, thank you so much," I said, and this time I didn't have to try to keep my voice soft and kind.

"It's no trouble," Laurel said, with a small smile. I saw a tear roll down her cheek and she tried to brush it away without me noticing. "It'll be nice to have somebody to talk to that really cares about the fate of the people we're watching."

"Won't you watch it with your parents?" I asked.

"Dad's in the Capitol on business, he desperately wanted to stay with me and Dylan for the reaping but they wouldn't let him, and Mum's mentoring," she told me.

I'd forgotten that Johanna would have to mentor. Laurel must be as lonely as I was. Suddenly my heart ached for this girl that I'd always hated.

"Well," I said, trying to find a silver lining to the cloud over Laurel's head. "At least you know Taylor's mentor cares about him if it's your mum?"

Laurel looked up at me in shock. "You really are thick Molly Dolly; my Mum's from District 7, remember? She's not taking care of my brother; she's responsible for helping that District's tributes to _kill_ Taylor."

The horror of the Hawthornes' situation finally sunk in. Once again, I'd been thinking of myself when there were others more in need.

"I'm really sorry," I said quietly. There was silence for a moment as we both thought of what to say next. Finally Laurel spoke up.

"So am I," she said dejectedly.

After that we said our goodbyes and I stowed the compact away until it was needed; Laurel was going to contact me when the scores went up. I turned on my side to go back to sleep, and tried to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that had been stirring in my stomach ever since Laurel told me that Taylor kept his compact in pride of place under his pillow.

**[A/N: So, what do you think? Sorry about the lack of action here, it was a necessary chapter. Reviews, as always, are gold dust to me. I'm hoping to get the next chapter out within 24 hours. I'd love to hear your thoughts on how much of Taylor and Dylan you want to see? Would you rather I focus on Molly and her mission? Let me know!]**


	9. Chapter 9

**[I'd like to dedicate this chapter to everybody that's reviewed my story so far. You guys keep me writing!]**

**Chapter 9: The Grey-eyed Boy**

When I awoke the next morning I was greeted by a very severe woman that I recognised from History lessons and news programmes at home. This was President Coin. She informed me that I had to "make myself useful" now that my body had almost healed, and contribute in some way to the District 13 community. She gave me three options; I could part of the domestics and support team (cooking, cleaning etc.), I could be a part of the medical team, or I could fight. Haymitch had told me to join the medical unit, and I was certainly experienced enough considering all the time I'd spent in Grandma's hospital, helping her. But I'm not the sit-at-home-and-bandage-the-soldiers'-war-wounds type.

"I'll fight," I said, resolutely. What Haymitch doesn't know won't hurt him.

Coin seemed pleased with my response and told me that I'd have the morning to familiarise myself with the training facilities in 13. I'd have a break for lunch then at 2pm I would be tested to decide which level training group I should join. Then, because she apparently thought I was so stupid that I couldn't be trusted to remember and follow a timetable, she stamped this information on my arm. Great.

That's why at 10am I was stood in the training centre eyeing up the weapons available to me. Working in Dad's bakery at the weekends had ensured I knew my way around a knife so I started off by throwing these. I did pretty well but not spectacularly, hitting the bull's eye about 50% of the time. Then I moved onto the bow and arrows; Mum had been taking me hunting in the woods since I was tiny so my performance here was exceptionally good. I hit the bull's eye about 75% of the time, meaning that, although I wasn't quite as good as Katniss, I was pretty darn close.

Then I put the bow and arrows back in their holsters and reached for the weapon that my fingers had been itching to grab ever since I entered the training room; the gun. Haymitch had bought me a gun for my twelfth birthday (I think he was probably drunk when he purchased it). At first my parents were horrified but I took to it like a duck to water. I remember him joking that being able to shoot would come in handy if the Hunger Games came back, causing us all to burst out laughing. At the time the idea seemed preposterous.

When using the gun I didn't miss the bull's eye once. So I decided to up the difficulty level slightly, moving as far from the target as possible and then shooting at other objects in the room in such a way that the bullet would ricochet off them and hit the bull's eye. It was after I landed a particularly nice shot involving a cabinet to my right and an overhead beam that I was interrupted by a low wolf whistle coming from behind me.

"Nice shooting blondie," said a voice that I recognised. I couldn't believe it; could this really be happening? I turned around and sure enough, there he was, about 40 metres away from me at the room's entrance. It was Taylor.

"Oh my gosh Taylor!" I yelled, running at him and enveloping him in a hug. He smelt different. That was odd. Actually, what was odd was that I knew what Taylor was supposed to smell like . . . I shook my head trying to banish this thought from my mind, Taylor and I were just friends. I noticed that Taylor seemed to be squirming under my grip.

"What's wrong Taylor?" I asked him.

"Ummm," he said. "This is really awkward but I have no idea who 'Taylor' is. My name's Gale."

I pulled back shocked, and suddenly registered the minute differences between the man in front of me and his son. Taylor was about an inch taller. Gale had slightly lighter hair. Although they both had the same grey eyes, Taylor's got darker in the middle whereas Gale's got lighter. Taylor had a slightly longer nose, and a dimple that Gale lacked. I felt tears welling up in my eyes; twice in twenty-four hours I thought I'd gotten my best friend back and twice I'd had that snatched away from me. I blinked furiously, trying to bat away the droplets before they fell onto my cheek for the world to see. I'd cried so many times in the last few days that I was surprised I hadn't gotten dehydrated yet. It was weird because I'd never been the crying type before; in fact I think the last time I cried before the reaping was about eight years ago. I'd like to say that was because I was tough and strong and all those things you're supposed to be. But really I think it's because I was sheltered, and loved, and happy. Peeta and Katniss had given me the childhood they'd never had, and it was only this last week that I'd really begun to comprehend what an achievement that was.

"Please don't cry, I'd have no idea what to do with you," Gale said, matter-of-factly.

I laughed, because that was just the sort of thing I'd say. "Ok, I'll stop blubbering and you stop sneaking up on me, deal?" I asked.

"Deal." He agreed. "That really was a nice shot though."

"Thanks."

"Where did you learn to shoot like that? Guns are pretty pricey." He was right. In my time only Captiol people, Peacekeepers, mayors and hunger games victors could afford them, and they'd been much more expensive when my parents were young.

"I had one at home, it was a family heirloom." I said. It was strange but I felt worse lying to Gale than I had lying to Prim. I had to avert my eyes when I did it. Because if I looked at his face I felt like I was lying to Taylor, and that was a thought that tore me apart inside.

"Cool," he said. Like with Katniss, I got the sense that Gale didn't quite believe me. Oh well, he'd probably be too busy to dig any deeper. The way Mum tells it Gale was very focused on the rebellion and very loyal to it; that's how he got the fancy job he has in our time. I looked at the rugged, scruffy boy in front of me and found it hard to imagine him as the suited and booted adult he'd always been to me.

Gale and I spent the next couple of hours training together; having grown up in a fairly well-off family I had virtually no survival skills, so he helped me with snares and identification of harmful foods. Having grown up in the poverty of the Seam he had no idea how to work a gun so I gave him some tips regarding that. I think we both went down to lunch better-equipped to fight the Capitol than we had been when we met each other.

Lunch was a disappointment. I wouldn't say I've been spoilt, but I've never really been hungry. I've always had at the very least three meals a day, and maybe a cupcake on top of that if there were any left in the bakery at the end of the day. And by "meals" I do mean MEALS; not the slush they tried to pass off as food in 13. Maybe I should have joined the domestics team after all and tried to improve their cooking.

I ate with Primrose and a girl called Delly, both of whom seemed welcoming and lovely, even if Delly did seem to be a bit of an airhead. They mostly discussed people I didn't know and events I'd never heard of so I just sat back and listened.

At 2 o'clock I went for my so-called "performance review" and was delighted to be informed afterwards that I was very skilled and would be training with the advanced squad. Overall I was having a relatively good day. Until 8 o'clock.

You see Laurel had contacted me just after lunch and told me that the tributes' scores were going to be up at 8 o'clock. My arm told me that I was scheduled to be on free time then, so I thought I was going to get to see them.

But as luck would have it, at 7:55pm an announcement came over the District 13 sound system.

"Attention all residents, you must report to the main hall immediately for an important screening. Attendance is compulsory."

I was desperate not to go; to stay in my room and learn my little brother's fate. But the last thing I needed was to be locked up in a District 13 prison from which I could never save Prim. So I resignedly popped the compact in my pocket, hoping I'd get a chance to open it in time for 12's scores if the "screening" was short, and headed down to the main hall. They were just numbers anyway; Laurel could tell me the figures later.

There was a buzz in the hall. Delly informed me that 13 was hijacking the Captiol's broadcasts tonight in the middle of a very popular sitcom in order to show a propos involving Katniss. The excitement of the people around me and the prospect of seeing my young Mother in her role as the mockingjay brightened my spirits a little. This could be fun.

Just as I felt the compact warming in my pocket the screen at the front of the room lit up. For a few seconds it played some boring sitcom involving people with far too much make-up and whiskers. Then it cut to a video of my Mum. She looked radiant in her mockingjay outfit, but the sound wasn't working very well and then the image started going patchy.

"There's something interfering with the signal," declared a man that could potentially be young Beetee.

I felt the compact getting hotter in my pocket.

Then the video of Katniss disappeared and was replaced by something else entirely. A man's face.

I think my heart skipped a beat, because now the screen displayed a face that had plagued my dreams last night. A face that I couldn't believe I'd confused with Gale Hawthorne's because they're really not that similar at all.

The man on the screen in District 13 was Taylor Hawthorne. And this time, my mind wasn't playing tricks on me.

**[A/N: What do you think? Reviews are greatly appreciated!]**


	10. Chapter 10

**[A/N: As usual I want to start by thanking everybody that reads my stories, particularly those of you that take the time to review it. I try to reply to all my reviews but obviously I can't reply to those left anonymously so I'm sorry for that. I just wanted to say before we begin that I know exactly where this story is going. Taking into account the responses on my reviews I've decided to focus on Molly but still keep an eye on Dylan and Taylor. With my current plan this fic should end up around 20 chapters long, with an epilogue. I hope you'll all enjoy it and stick with it. Now, on with the show.]**

**Chapter 10: Allies**

Taylor's face shone out from the screen for a moment in all its glory before a voice boomed out from the District 13 speakers.

"Taylor Hawthorne, district two, ten."

A large number ten appeared next to Taylor's face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gale Hawthorne turn towards me, quizzically. Then the screen cut to an image of a pretty blonde girl as the voice declared "Kelly Jackson, district two, six."

We were watching the training scores of the 76th Hunger Games. I felt my compact heating up further in my pocket and suddenly I had a very good idea of what was interfering with Young Beetee's signal. Apparently my futuristic device emitted a signal strong enough to overpower 13's sound system. I had to shut this off. Now. Otherwise I was going to be in a world of trouble. I reached into my pocket and covered the compact with my hand, hoping the extra layer of protection would somehow muffle the signal. No such luck.

So I tried the only other thing I could think of; I opened the locket slightly. The good thing was that the screen cut back to Beetee's sound and image after I did this. The bad thing was that there was now a voice saying "Callum Lowe, district seven, ten," coming from my jacket pocket. There was enough noise in that crowded and confused hall to drown out most of what my compact was saying, but a few of the heads closest to me turned in my direction at the sound. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gale trying to mka ehis way towards me through the crowd, confusion and determination on his face. Apparently he remembered what I'd called him that morning. Shoot. I had to get out of there. I turned desperately to Delly, who seemed oblivious to my talking pocket.

"Delly, I think I'm going to be sick, I have to go."

"But attendance is compulsory." She said, looking shocked. I got the impression she was a bit of a school rules fairy.

"Not if you're sick, let the girl go," Greasy Sae said from my right. I could have kissed her. I flashed her a grateful smile and ran for it.

I ran as fast as my legs could take me, and as I got further from the noise of the hall the sound of my compact got clearer.

"Rosie Stanley, district 11, twelve, Dylan Mellark, district twelve, three, Abigail Wood, district twelve, five."

I stopped in my tracks. Three. He got a _three_. I haven't watched many Hunger Games, but I know enough to know that's an absurdly low score. Then again, I shouldn't have expected anything more I guess; Dylan had always been such a frail little thing. He'd never come hunting with us. In the bakery he'd been too scared to touch the knives. He'd been even more disapproving than Mum and Dad when I got my gun. Images of him baking cupcakes, cuddling the cat and playing with his teddy bear filled my head.

I sank to the floor, gasping for breath. I wanted to cry but I think I'd run out of tears. I felt like my lungs were on fire. I felt like my whole body was on fire. _Three_. He didn't stand a chance. I thought of Rosie Stanley and her ridiculously high score. Would she be the one to kill him? The logical part of my mind was arguing something along the lines of "Taylor did really well and Taylor will protect him" but I wasn't ready to listen to logic yet. I don't know how long I sat there before I felt somebody pushing something into my hand.

It was meat of some kind, cooked to perfection, still warm and wrapped in a napkin.

"It's venison," Gale said, smiling at me as I turned to face him. Luckily Laurel seemed to have closed her compact; the last thing I needed was for Gale to hear a Capitol voice emanating from my pocket incriminatingly.

I was a bit wary of taking food from this man, but Haymitch had put him on the list of people I could trust, and the meat's heavenly scent was making me realise just how hungry I really was. I devoured the food then sat there silently, waiting for Gale to initiate conversation.

"Who's Taylor Hawthorne?" He asked me. Direct and to the point; as much as his question annoyed me, I had to admit that I liked Gale's style.

"I don't know."

"You can trust me, Molly," he said softly, taking my hand. I looked into his grey eyes and thought of the Gale I knew. Once, when Mum had been late home and he'd been staying at our house, he'd taken me hunting, and we had encountered a bear. I was terrified and tried to bolt, but Gale had grabbed my hand and told me that I had to stay very still. "You can trust me, Molly," he'd said. Sure enough, I stayed still and the bear went away, deciding we weren't a threat. I remember going home and telling everybody I met that Gale had saved my life. Since that day I'd trusted Gale Hawthorne completely. That wasn't going to change now.

"Ok," I said, deciding to take a chance on the man in front of me. "I'll make you a deal. You can ask me three yes or no questions and I'll answer them truthfully. In exchange for this, you agree to stop stalking and pestering me. Deal?" I asked him.

"Deal," he agreed, smiling broadly. "Alright, question one. Do you know the Taylor Hawthorne that was on that screen?"

"Yes."

"Do I know him?"

I deliberated for a moment, and decided that the Gale in front of me didn't know him. Not yet. "No."

"Ok," he said, thoughtfully. He was silent for a moment, then looked at me very seriously.

"Are you in love with him?"

I hesitated. I started to say "no" but then decided that with all the lies I was telling other people lately, I couldn't afford to be lying to myself too.

"Yes." I said quietly.

Gale squeezed my hand, leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

"I don't totally understand what's going on with you Molly, but I like you and I have a feeling you're hurting. If you need me, I'm here," he said. And with that he walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

**Gale POV**

As I walked back to my room I tried to make sense of what I'd learnt. Molly was in love with a boy that looked like me and shared my surname. This boy, Taylor, had apparently been in the Hunger Games. I didn't remember seeing him before, and I think I would have remembered seeing a Career from District 2 that shared my surname. So I could only assume that he'd been on before I started watching. Maybe he's somebody Molly knew when she was very young, that was killed in the Hunger Games.

When I'd asked her if she loved him I'd been wondering if she cared for him romantically, but it occurred to me that she may have meant she loved him as a brother or as an uncle. She'd said she was from District 4 but 4 and 2 were quite cosy, it's possible she could have had a brother there. They did share the same colouring; dark hair, pale skin. I desperately wanted to go back and ask her more questions, but I'd promised to stop pestering her and Gale Hawthorne keeps his promises. I knew that I wasn't going to unravel the story behind mysterious Molly fully until she wanted me to. That's why I'd walked away from her; I didn't trust myself not to push her away with my big mouth. I'd work on making her feel comfortable around me and maybe someday she'd let me in.

**Molly POV**

Eventually I found the strength to make my way back to my room, where I laid on my bed for an hour before opening the compact.

Laurel picked up almost instantly. She must have been keeping it close to her.

"Molly, what happened? Where were you? I was worried!" She exclaimed.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," I said, smiling warmly at her. Laurel was really growing on me.

"Did you hear the scores?" She asked, looking worried.

"Yeah, well I heard a few of them. Taylor did well." I said, looking down and trying not to cry.

"I'm so sorry about Dylan," she said sincerely, probably guessing from my expression that I must have heard about his three.

"Was his the lowest score?"

"Yes."

Of course it was. Nobody was going to get lower than a three. Laurel started to say something else but was interrupted by the noise of somebody knocking on a door.

"I think that's coming from your end," she said. She was right. I shut the compact quickly and ran to open it, praying that whoever was on the other side hadn't heard me conversing with Laurel.

I headed over to the door and turned the knob cautiously, wondering who on earth would call on me at a time like this. I froze when I saw who'd been knocking. But my shock at the identity was nothing compared to my shock at the first words they said to me.

"Well Ms. Mellark, aren't you going to let me in?"

**[Who could it be? I suppose you'll have to keep reading to find out! As always reviews are encouraged and cherished. Expect the next update with a day or two, maybe sooner.]**


	11. Chapter 11

**[A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! You guys keep me writing.]**

**Chapter 11: The Truth In The Lie**

"Johanna Mason." I said, shock registering in my voice. I'd nearly called her "Johanna Hawthorne" but had luckily stopped myself on time.

"Oh good, you know who I am, and I know who you are, we're practically best buddies. You going to let me in now or are you just going to stand there looking surprised all day?" Young Johanna said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and her face contorting into a smirk.

How did she know my real surname? I suppose she could have just heard that I was related to Peeta and guessed that my surname was Mellark like his. I had told everybody I was his cousin after all? No; the knowing expression on her face told me she was a lot closer to the truth than that. There was only one way to find out for sure how much she knew.

"Please come in," I said in what I hoped was a civil voice. She stepped into my small room and raked her eyes over my few possessions.

"Aren't you a little old for a teddy bear?" She asked me, laughing cruelly, as her eyes fell upon Dylan's teddy.

"It has sentimental value," I said defensively, picking the teddy up and cuddling it to my chest. It still smelt of my little brother, and that helped to calm me down a bit. Dylan was always so serene and polite. I tried to channel him now as I faced this stranger who was trying to ruin my plans to save those I loved.

"Let's cut to the chase shall we?" I asked Johanna. "What do you know about me?"

She laid down on my bed, appearing totally at ease and smirked. She was clearly enjoying having this power over me.

"I know that you're from the future. I know that you're Peeta and Katniss' daughter. And I know that somehow that mess up with the screen down in the main hall was your fault."

"How?" I asked her, shocked and more than a little upset. I thought I'd been doing so well.

"Science doesn't lie sweetie," she said, pulling something out of her pocket. It was a folded piece of paper, with the stamp of the District 13 medical unit on the top. It was my medical report. It detailed my injuries and the medicine used to treat me. Then I saw it; in a bottom corner of the paper was a section entitled "blood test results". Underneath my blood type were written the words:

_Direct relatives: Mellark, Peeta and Everdeen, Katniss_.

Of course; I remembered a blood test being one of the many tests Prim had done on me when I arrived here. I just hadn't thought about the implications of it at the time; I'd been in too much pain.

"Of course you could have been their sister, but I got curious and checked their medical records; they're not in any way related to each other. And for you to be listed as a direct relative you'd have to be either their sibling, their parent, or their child." Johanna looked smug, and I couldn't blame her. I'd only been here a couple of days and she'd already guessed my secret. "Oh, also, _Trident_ is the worst fake surname I've heard in my life." She added condescendingly.

"Who else has seen this?" I asked her.

"Nobody," she said.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Here in dear old District 13 they put your blood sample into a machine which displays your results on the screen then prints them out on a copy of your medical report. You _auntie_ Prim," I ignored the sneering way she said the word "auntie", "put your blood in then left the room for a minute. I was recovering in the bed next to the screen and saw the results. So I stole the print out and deleted the file on the computer."

I was gobsmacked. Why had this woman done something to help me? She didn't even know me!

"Why would you do that for me?" I asked her softly, suddenly feeling a lot warmer towards the woman in front of me.

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Katniss. She's sacrificed a lot to guarantee us victors immunity when the war ends, so I owe her. I figured by protecting your secret I was protecting her too."

"Thank you," I said sincerely, throwing my arms around her to hug her. This woman had helped me on my quest to save my baby brother.

Apparently Johanna wasn't the hugging type as she made a strange hissing noise and pushed me away. Whatever, I was still grateful to her.

"Don't touch me," she said, coolly.

"Ok."

"Now, I wanted to ask you some questions about that thing with Beetee's signal."

I thought this over. She already knew so much that telling her a little bit more didn't seem that bad.

"I'll answer your questions as long as you promise to keep everything said in this room secret."

"I don't betray people's trust Molly. I have principles."

"But what if I told you a secret about a friend of yours? Would you be able to keep it from them."

Johanna burst out laughing. "Sweetie, I don't have friends."

I remembered what Haymitch had told me: _she won't stab you in the back_.

I decided that I trusted her.

"What do you want to know?"

"Do you know Taylor Hawthorne?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"We've been friends since we were kids."

"You sure you're not more than friends sweetie? You've been blushing since I said his name." She said suggestively.

"We're just close friends." I said honestly. Regardless of how I felt about Taylor I was pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about me; he saw me as a little sister. He always had done.

"Is Taylor related to Gale?"

"Yes, he's his son." I conveniently left out the part about Taylor being her son too; I couldn't tell her everything. That could change the way her relationship with Gale panned out.

"And he's going into the Hunger Games?" Her tone softened when she said this.

"Yes," I replied, my voice a whisper. "Along with my little brother."

"Wow Gale's son and Katniss' son in the arena together. That totally isn't fixed," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "So we don't get rid of them in the future then, the Hunger Games that is?"

"No, you along with a few other people vote on whether or not to have one with Capitol children. The verdict is "yes" and the future government use this to justify reinstating the Hunger Games for the districts."

It suddenly occurred to me that all I had to do to end the Hunger Games forever was to convince Johanna to vote against it.

"So you came back in time to change the vote?" She asked me. She was smart.

"Yes," I said. "Johanna the yeses only won by one vote. If you vote against it then I'll have done what I came here to do and Taylor will be safe!"

"I'll do it, I'll vote against it. Katniss and Gale are good people they don't deserve to suffer that."

I noticed that she didn't say anything about me being a good person or wanting to help me. I got the impression she didn't like me very much.

"That's brilliant!" I exclaimed.

She looked a little frightened by my enthusiasm and joy (she probably thought I was going to hug her again) so she said goodnight and left.

I wondered what happened now. In theory the future should have changed; I should be able to open that compact and see a world without Hunger Games. I could go home. I had mixed feelings about that; part of me was ecstatic and desperate to get back to my loved ones, but part of me felt uneasy. I wanted to stay and save Prim. Maybe I still could.

I carefully lifted the lid on the compact, expecting to see Taylor's face beaming back at me, from his own bedroom in his own house.

I was obviously very disappointed when the compact was opened by a very disgruntled Laurel.

"Can I speak to Taylor please?" I asked her, excitement building in my stomach at the prospect of seeing him again.

She looked confused and angry. "What are you, thick? He's in the HUNGER GAMES! Remember? With your LITTLE BROTHER! So no, you can't _speak to him_." She slammed the compact shut angrily.

It hadn't worked. How hadn't it worked? If Johanna voted no, and I truly believed she would now, then that was a majority against it. Haymitch had said that would stop the Hunger Games. I lay awake puzzling the issue in my mind for a long time before I fell into a disturbed sleep.

I was woken by the sound of somebody rapping on my door. It turned out to be Gale Hawthorne. He looked devastated and for one terrible moment I thought Johanna had told him that his son was in the Hunger Games. But in the pit of my stomach I knew she wouldn't betray my trust.

"Goodness Gale, who died?" I asked him jokingly, trying to lighten his sullen mood.

"Beetee," he said. "Beetee died."

"W-what?"

"He was really concerned about his equipment messing up so he spent the night playing around with the wiring. He electrocuted himself."

I froze. I'd killed Beetee. Not directly of course, but still I was partially responsible for his death. I felt like I was underwater as a wave of guilt swept over me and dragged me down. Gale was still speaking but I couldn't make out what he was saying. That was why Johanna's vote changing had meant nothing; Beetee had voted no. Now there would be Johanna, Peeta and Annie voting "no" and Katniss, Haymitch and Enobaria voting "yes". It would be deadlocked. And Haymitch had warned me that in the case of a deadlock the Mockingjay's vote would carry the most weight; that's why I'd originally focused on Katniss. Once again, I'd failed. At least now I had an excuse to stay and save Prim . . .

"Molly." Gale was waving his hand in front of my face, trying to get my attention.

"What?" I asked.

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"No."

"You've got a special assignment today; you're not going to be training. You're going to be trying to jog your cousin's memories."

I stared at him blankly for a moment. Cousin? What cousin?

He looked at me quizzically and clarified. "You're going to be spending the day with Peeta Mellark."

Oh, _that_ cousin.

**[A/N: What do you think? If you took the time to review it would mean the world to me.]**


	12. Chapter 12

**[A/N: Thank you to everybody that reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a bit longer than usual because I had a lot to say. Feedback is greatly appreciated!]**

**Chapter 12: Sweet Memory Lane**

Gale informed me that I didn't have to go and see Peeta until after lunch, which was a stroke of good luck because the interviews for the 76th Hunger Games were airing at 10am and I really wanted to watch them live. I was terrified there was going to be another last minute meeting I had to attend, but luckily nothing came up, and I was able to open my compact as soon as it started heating up in my hand. Honestly I can't remember many of the tributes; other than Taylor and Dylan only a few stuck out in my mind.

Obviously, as nobody had been expecting a Hunger Games, there were no "career" tributes this year who'd been training for the opportunity. This meant that the real threats this year weren't necessarily from Districts 1 and 2. In fact the District 1 tributes both struck me as pretty weak; they were very thin and sickly pale. The real threat seemed to be Rosie Stanley, from district 11, who had scored a terrifying twelve. She was very tall, probably close to six foot, and had a mane of dark red hair that reached almost to her waist. When Caesar asked her how much she wanted to win she laughed and said that she'd tear the other tributes' heads off using her teeth if she had to. The deranged look in her almost black eyes told me she meant every word. The districts without living victors were being mentored by their mayors and I'd heard the mayor of 11 was a tyrant very keen on the death penalty. I only hoped he'd be a less competent mentor than a past winner like Enobaria or my parents.

Nobody got an eleven so the next highest scorers after Rosie were Taylor and Callum Lowe, both with tens. Callum was the male tribute for District 7, so would be mentored by Johanna, and was a very attractive eighteen-year-old with dark skin and jet black hair. He must have been at least six foot eight and looked like he could have torn Dylan in two with his bare hands. When he walked onto the stage there were cheers and whoops from the audience, some of whom even started calling his name. He must be a favourite to win. Caesar asked him a few generic questions about the Capitol and the games and Callum came across as charismatic and confident. The sponsors were going to love him. I sort of wanted to punch him.

Then Caesar asked him in a soft, empathetic voice "how do you feel about your little sister being chosen as the other District 7 tribute?"

I hadn't known about that. I started to feel slightly sorry for Callum; I couldn't imagine how I would have felt if I'd been reaped alongside Dylan.

The crowd went silent waiting for Callum's response. I think they were as shocked as I was when Callum started laughing.

"It's no big deal, just another person to kill. I never liked her that much anyway. I was honestly relieved when she was picked; she's so frail and small I bet she'll be easy to get rid of. I was worried it was going to be this really tall, scary girl from my District that has a bit of a grudge against me!"

Even Caesar looked shocked for a moment before composing himself and quickly changing the topic. I take it back. I didn't feel sorry for this boy AT ALL. How could somebody talk so heartlessly about their own flesh and blood? I'd begged to volunteer for Abigail just so that I could go in and protect Dylan!

I did, however, feel sorry for his sister. Her name was Macy.

She had the same dark skin and jet black hair as her brother but that was where the comparisons ended. She was small where he was tall, she was sweet where he was cruel, and she was young at twelve, whilst he was old at eighteen. When asked about her brother she said that she would never do anything to hurt him, but that there was probably nothing she could do to hurt him anyway. I seriously hope Johanna favoured her when distributing sponsor money.

Taylor's interview of course went wonderfully; he's handsome, charming and a high-scorer so the sponsors were always going to love him. I hoped that Enobaria (the only living district 2 victor) directed more sponsorship money to him than to the ditzy blonde girl from District 2. Her name was Kelly Jackson and I swear during her entire interview she never strung together a sentence consisting of more than four words. All she really did was twirl her hair and giggle.

But even her interview went better than Dylan's.

When he came on there were "ooohs" and "aahs" from the audience as they recognised the son of the famous Mellarks. He was wearing what looked like a suit made of diamonds, and Laurel quickly informed me that he'd been wearing similar clothes during the chariot entrance. The district 12 stylists this year were playing that "coal turns into diamonds when you put pressure on it angle" and for a moment I thought Dylan had a real chance of winning sponsors over with his cuteness. But my poor baby brother doesn't do anywhere near as well under pressure as coal; he was so nervous he couldn't talk without stuttering. Whereas Macy Lowe had come across as weak, but very sweet and bubbly he just came across as weak, scared and shy. I was pretty sure that any sponsors wanting to give their money to a "cute" tribute were going to pick her and not him. My only hope was that maybe Abigail Wood's interview would go well, bringing in some sponsorship money to 12 that my parents could divert to Dylan. But, alas, she was about as interesting as a plank of wood. No wonder I'd forgotten her name so quickly at the reaping.

The Hunger Games started at 11pm that night and Laurel promised to open the compact then. Before she left I decided to ask her a question.

"Laurel, who's mentoring District 3?"

"Their mayor of course, they don't have a living victor." She told me, looking confused.

"What about Beetee?" I asked her fearing the answer.

"Molly he died during the rebellion, electrocuted himself whilst in District 13." She told me matter-of-factly.

"Thanks," I said sadly, closing the compact. I'd changed the course of history. What kind of knock-on effects would this have? People had been discussing the impact of his loss on the rebellion at breakfast but I hadn't been listening to most of what was said. I remember somebody saying the propos would still be able to air so that was good at least. And I knew that nothing that had come back in time could be altered by events in the future shifting; we were protected from it. That's why my memories of Beetee in the future hadn't changed whilst everybody else's had. So my wiress still worked fine. It did, however, mean that Haymitch now probably had no memories of sending me back in time. Which meant that nobody knew where I was; if I died here, nobody in the future would have a clue what had happened to me. I suddenly felt very guilty, imagining my parents' pain if they lost Dylan then lost me too. I had to get home. Soon.

By the time I arrived at Peeta's room I was in a decidedly bad mood. But seeing my Dad, even if he was a battered and mentally deranged teenage Mutt, cheered me up. I'd always been closer to him than Mum; I think this was because when he was upset or scared he dealt with it by reaching out to those around him. Mum dealt with it by shutting us out.

"Hi Peeta," I said to him cautiously.

He looked up suddenly and seemed confused for a moment, narrowing his eyes at me. The armed guard in the corner of the room trained his gun on Peeta's head, which I personally thought was a bit excessive, but hey, I didn't know Young Peeta very well.

"Who are you?" He asked me. He didn't say it rudely, he just seemed curious.

"Your cousin, Molly Trident, from District 4," I told him.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you," he told me apologetically.

_That's probably because Molly Trident doesn't exist_. I thought to myself. Of course, I wasn't stupid enough to say that aloud.

"Well let's see if I can jog your memories." I told him. I felt bad messing with his concept of what was and wasn't real when his memories had been damaged so cruelly, but I knew he wouldn't mind if he knew why I was doing it. Dad would have done anything to protect Dylan. I decided to try not to feed Peeta too many lies; I'd just write myself into real stories about his past.

"Do you remember that time we went camping in the forests?" I asked him. He'd told me about this camping trip when he was trying to get me to sleep one night. I'd tell Peeta the truth, and just imply that I was there too. "Your Dad took you, your brothers and me into the forests surrounding District 12 and we laid under the stars for a night wrapped in blankets. We roasted marshmallows on an open fire and your brothers told you they were actually squirrel brains so you refused to eat them. When you found out they were lying later that night you were so angry that you put worms in their shoes. You got grounded for a week after they told on you."

Peeta was laughing. That was good surely. One look at the armed guard's shocked face told me that this Peeta didn't laugh very often.

"Now that you mention it I do remember that! The look on their faces was priceless. I can't believe I forgot that trip."

The rest of the day passed in much the same way; I tried to remember the stories Dad had told me about his past and I passed these on to Young Peeta. The day Mum had sung the valley song in assembly. The time his mother was so sick she thought she was dying so she told him she loved him. Dad had told me this was the only time she'd ever said it to him. The time his father had allowed Peeta to choose any bun in the bakery as his twelfth Birthday present. Wherever possible I avoided giving myself a large role in them lest I should mess with his brain too much. I actually got so engrossed in my storytelling that I forgot to go to dinner. It was a wonderful feeling; being able to do something to help Dad after all that he and Mum had done for me, and I went back to my bedroom at 10pm feeling rather happy. Until I saw the compact lying on my bedside table and remembered what awaited me at 11pm.

I opened it as soon as it started heating up and listened intently as Caesar Flickerman showed the audience around the arena that the tributes were about to be trapped in. It was a rocky terrain, with trees that were about four stories high and had no low branches, so were virtually impossible to climb. Great. I knew from Mum that hiding up trees was a good way to stay out of trouble; clearly that wasn't going to be an option for Dylan. Caesar revealed to us that the arena also featured a secret volcano hidden somewhere that could be triggered at any time. And the only source of water was by the Cornucopia.

The tributes were lifted into the arena and I saw that Dylan and Taylor were positioned next to one another. I watched with bated breath as the timer counted down from 60. The camera focused for a split second on my brother's face and I was glad to see that he was glancing behind him, hopefully planning to run away from the blood bath as soon as the countdown finished. I realised that this could be the last time I ever saw him alive, and tried not to cry as I memorised the crease of his forehead as he concentrated, and the exact way his mop of blonde hair stuck out in all directions. Even the Capitol's stylists had been unable to tame it. The camera moved away from him too quickly to ditzy Kelly who was looking around happily like she was in wonderland and not the arena. That girl seriously needed to get some brain cells. About twenty seconds later the camera switched back to Dylan, just as the countdown reached 5. He was narrowing his eyes in determination.

4. The smile twisting up the left corner of his mouth told me he had a plan.

3. I watched as he moved his body slightly.

2. He was shifting it in the direction of the Cornucopia.

1. He leaned forwards, ready to run into the blood bath. For some reason my baby brother had decided to tackle a bunch of teenagers who were three times his size and 100% ready to kill him head on instead of running away. I wanted to scream at him. But I knew that would do no good.

The timer hit zero.

**[A/N: What do you think? I know there was a lot of Dylan and Taylor in this chapter but I felt I'd been neglecting them. What do you think? Reviews are greatly appreciated! I will hopefully update within a couple of days, maybe sooner.]**


	13. Chapter 13

**[A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews. I'm sorry the update took a bit longer this time; we were visiting my grandparents so I was busy, I hope you enjoy the chapter]**

**Chapter 13: Trust Me**

Dylan ran straight towards the Cornucopia. He had his eye on something in particular but I couldn't tell what. Rosie Stanley threw a knife at him that missed his head by inches and I think my heart stopped for a moment.

She started to throw another at him but somebody tackled her from the side; it was Taylor. I felt my mouth drop open. He was protecting Dylan. But they were supposed to be trying to kill one another!

The camera shifted away from the tussle between Taylor and Rosie before I could really tell who had the upper hand. I prayed that Taylor would be alright; she scored more highly than him but he was larger and stronger than she was so had the advantage in a hand-to-hand fight. I figured it could go either way, but if the cameras were switching focus the gamemakers clearly didn't expect either of them to die.

I saw Dylan grab what seemed to be a really random selection of materials from the Cornucopia; four bottles of water, a lot of food, a lot of thick rope, some strange little metal thing, a knife, a length of wire and a blue backpack. He didn't seem very interested in weapons. He then finally did the sensible thing and ran away from the bloodbath. Callum Lowe started chasing him but Dylan had a good head start and I thought he would probably make it out safely. Until he stopped by the little, round platform he'd been lifted into the arena on and stooped to pick something up. Maybe he'd dropped something at the start, but I couldn't imagine what. This of course gave Callum time to catch up to him. Within mere seconds Callum was bearing down on my baby brother, a sword in his hands, ready to drive it through Dylan's good, generous heart, when somebody grabbed Dylan's arm and pulled him out of the way. The sword went into the ground where my brother's chest had been just seconds before. The cameras zoomed out on time for me to see little Macy Lowe half-dragging my idiotic brother into the shade of the trees; she'd saved his life.

"Shall we go after them?" Rosie asked Callum. She, he and a burly boy from district 4 whose name I couldn't remember were the only living tributes left at the Cornucopia. Around them were strewn fourteen dead bodies. I recognised both the tributes from District 1 amongst those dead. Taylor was nowhere to be seen.

"Nah, we can catch up with them later, no point leaving our supplies now." Callum replied.

The cameras stayed on the three at the Cornucopia for what seemed like forever, they must be favourites to win, before it cut to Taylor. He was with ditzy Kelly from his district. Great. If he was stuck with bimbo Barbie he was completely doomed; she was bound to suggest some ridiculous plan like starting a fire in the middle of the night. I assured myself that my hatred of Kelly had everything to do with her stupidity and nothing to do with the way that she was flirting with Taylor. I'm totally not the jealous type.

He was limping slightly and I saw he'd incurred some sort of injury to his leg. It looked nasty, but not lethal.

"That Rosie was so mean hurting you like that," Kelly said to him. She clearly didn't get the point of the games.

"I'll be alright, I'm just glad Dylan made it out ok." He said, pain evident in his voice. I was touched by his concern for my baby brother and desperately hoped that he'd be alright. Kelly started patting the wound with her muddy sleeve and he winced in pain. "Kelly, that's not going to help." He told her through gritted teeth.

"Oops," she said, dumbly, and stopped. With Dr Barbie treating him Taylor would be lucky to make it through the night. I thought of my medical training and how it should be me treating his wounds not this floozy.

"Oh Taylor I'm so glad we're together, this place is so scary and it's like totally awful that people are like trying to kill us." She said in a babyish voice, clinging to his arm like a limpet and fluttering her eyelashes at him. She flicked her beautiful, long, blonde hair so that it caught the sunlight and flashed him a dazzlingly white smile and I imagined myself ripping those perfect teeth out of her mouth one by one with my bare hands. Ok, maybe I was a little bit jealous.

Luckily the screen then changed and I was distracted when I saw my baby brother sat at the base of a tree messing around with his length of rope. Why wasn't he moving? Macy and I were apparently thinking along the same lines, because she started nagging him in an irritated voice.

"Dylan, we need to get moving. My brother could be hot on our tail." She told him. I decided I liked this girl.

Dylan looked up at her through that endearing messy mop of blonde hair and smiled at her. "Trust me," he said. He sounded like he had a plan. I looked at him more closely and realised he was fiddling around with the rope and the silver object he'd acquired at the Cornucopia. About a minute later he stood up, after having successfully attached the two items. He then followed Macy a little further into the woods and they started talking as they walked.

"Do you recognise me?" Macy asked him.

"No," he concluded after taking a good look at her. "Sorry, have we met?"

"Only once, my grandpa works at the same hospital as your grandma in District 4. I was visiting him once when you were visiting her, it would have been about a year ago. We didn't talk but I remember seeing you and thinking how much you looked like your Dad." Macy started blushing slightly and turned away from Dylan, staring at the ground instead. This meant that it took her a few seconds to notice that my brother had stopped walking and she'd left him behind.

"What's wrong?" She asked him nervously. He was staring up into the branches of a particularly large tree.

"Nothing," he said happily. "I just think this would be a perfect place to set up camp."

"You want to just sit down here?" She asked him, looking at him like he was stupid. She had a point; this patch of grass was no different to any other they'd trampled over.

"No," he said. "I want us to sit down up there." With that he took the hook out of his pocket and threw it up into the branches. He apparently missed whatever he was aiming for because it fell straight back down again and nearly hit him on the head. He was going to get himself killed.

"Dylan, please, let's just keep walking." Macy begged him. I desperately wanted him to agree to her suggestion, but his brow was furrowed with determination as he threw the hook again. This time it didn't come back down and a smile lit up his beautiful face. He approached the base of the tree, gripped the rope tightly in his hands, and hoisted himself up the trunk with its help. He was going to use the hook and rope to climb up the impossibly tall tree! I felt ashamed of myself as the brilliance of his plan became apparent; I should have had more faith in him. Macy started whooping and cheering (not the best plan in a forest filled with people that want to kill you but luckily there were no other tributes nearby) then used the rope to climb the tree herself after Dylan had clambered onto its highest branch.

From their vantage point they could see almost the entire arena, and nobody else would be able to follow them up the tree once Dylan had pulled the rope up after them. That was why he'd grabbed so much food and water at the Cornucopia; so he could stay up there for a long time without needing to come down! My brother was safe. I let that sink in for a moment, feeling warmth spreading from my head to my toes. He and Molly settled themselves in for the night and started chatting; they seemed to get along really well. I was glad Dylan had somebody to comfort him in the arena but at the same time their friendship scared me; ultimately, there was only going to be one victor and I hoped Dylan would be ready to kill this girl, nice as she was, when the time came.

As the screen moved onto other tributes Laurel started to close the compact.

"Aren't you even going to say goodbye?" I asked her teasingly. I let myself laugh. My brother was safe for now and I was in a good mood. Laurel turned the compact around so I could see her and the anger in her expression melted my smile away.

"It's ok for you Molly Dolly _your_ brother's safe. _He_ didn't get hurt trying to protect some idiot of a boy that didn't even thank him."

"That's not my fault!" I exclaimed.

"Oh come on Molly, we both know Taylor did that for you, not Dylan." With that she snapped the compact shut and I was left feeling guilty and hollow. Taylor's wound hadn't looked that serious, but I suppose he could die of it if it got infected. I don't know how I'd forgive myself if he died saving my baby brother. I knew for sure that Laurel would never forgive me.

Just then there was a knock at my door, saving me from the pain of wallowing in my thoughts. It was President Coin.

"Hello Ms Trident," she said to me. "I have a special mission for you."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked eagerly, keen to have something to distract me from my guilty thoughts about Taylor.

"We are sending some reinforcements to District 2, including your friend Gale Hawthorne. I want you to be part of the team. You leave at dawn."

"Really?" I asked her. This was a big mission; after we took 2 we were going onto the Capitol.

"Yes, and Ms Trident I have a special task for you and Mr Hawthorne. I want you to make sure our Mockingjay makes it out of this alive. Even if it costs you your own life. Understood?"

I nodded. Ultimately, if Katniss died I would never be born so saving her was in my interests anyway. I felt excitement building in my stomach; this was the first serious mission I'd been sent on. As I watched President Coin leave Haymitch's last words of advice to me floated back to me . . . _Stay alive_.

Hopefully I'd be able to manage that.

**[A/N: What do you think? Again a lot of Taylor and Dylan, but the next chapter will be mostly about Molly and the past. Reviews mean the world to me! I may not be able to update now until Thursday because my family are going to the seaside and I don't know if our hotel will have wi-fi or if I'll have time to write. There may be updates sooner than that but I'm not promising anything.]**


	14. Chapter 14

**[A/N: Ok I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to update. I was on holiday and then I got bogged down by revision for my exams. Thank you to everybody that reviewed. A question reviewers have asked a few times is how Molly's watch is ok if Beetee's dead; surely it should be gone? My loophole is that anything that went back in time with Molly is protected from changes to the future. I hope that makes sense.]**

**Chapter 14: No Going Back**

Within a few minutes of our arrival I'd decided that I didn't like District 2. It's weird because I'd always loved it when I was a kid, but I think that had less to do with the District itself than to do with the fact that it had housed my best friend. Any place that Taylor lived in must be wonderful, even if it was full of Peacekeeper wannabes. But I looked at the war-torn landscape in front of me, and the Nut looming overhead (which we were somehow supposed to attack) and all I saw was a cold, hard place that held no significance for me anymore.

People were discussing tactics and I decided to go for a walk to clear my head; the prospect of the looming battle was making me feel woozy. As I walked away from camp I heard voices to my left. It was Katniss and Gale. Mum had always told me that she and Gale had been fast friends when they were younger, and I headed in their direction, thinking that maybe they could help distract me from the anxiety building in my stomach. Katniss didn't like me very much but Gale did. As I got closer the voices stopped. That was weird; maybe they'd heard me coming and worried I was eavesdropping on their conversation? I pressed on.

As I rounded the corner and caught sight of them I froze in shock. Mum was kissing Gale Hawthorne. And when I say "kissing" I don't just mean a peck on the lips. I was shocked, she'd told me they were friends but she'd never implied they were anything more! Mum and Dad had told me that as soon as Peeta came back from the Capitol Katniss had done nothing but worry about him and try to get his memories back. I was beginning to think they'd been a little less than truthful with me.

"What are you doing?" I practically hissed at them. They jumped away from each other and looked at me with wide, surprised eyes.

"Molly, it's not what you think." Katniss started to say, defensively.

"Isn't it?" Gale asked her. He seemed annoyed with her. I had no idea why since she'd just been playing tongue hockey with him.

"I thought you loved Peeta." I said softly, tears burning in the sides of my eyes.

"They played it up for the games." Gale told me, matter-of-factly.

He may as well have punched me in the chest. All my life I'd been fed the same story; star-crossed lovers thrown into the Hunger Games. Katniss struggling to help Peeta overcome the Capitol's torture. Peeta helping her to overcome her sister's death. Then, when they were finally safe, they got married and had the children they'd always wanted. They'd been in love since the time in the cave.

I'd trusted my parents. I'd believed that the life they had with me and Dylan was the life they'd always wanted. What if it wasn't? What if it was just the most convenient option.

"Do you love Peeta?" I directed this question at Katniss.

Her hesitation was the only answer I needed, and I turned on my heel and stormed back to camp, trying not to think about what Gale and Katniss might be doing now I was gone.

I needed to distract myself, so I opened the compact, and sure enough Laurel opened hers so that I could see the screen of the Hunger Games.

"Have there been any developments?" I asked her.

"Yeah, Dylan and Macy spotted Taylor and Kelly and ran over to help treat Taylor's leg. Luckily Dylan seems to have had some sort of medical training and there was some disinfectant in a backpack Macy'd picked up so Taylor's recovering well. I'm sorry about going off on one at you. Dylan's a decent kid, I'm glad Taylor saved him."

I was about to make a biting comment in response but tried to imagine how I would feel if Dylan had been hurt attempting to save Taylor.

"Don't worry about it." I told her softly.

I watched the screen for a bit but all the tributes were asleep except for Rosie Stanley so the screen was just watching her sharpen her knives and that really wasn't what I needed to see when my best friend and baby brother were trapped in an arena with her. So I closed the compact again and decided to face the real world, walking back into camp. Gale and Katniss were back, which I took as a good sign, and from their body language I'd say they weren't too pleased with each other. Good. I started paying attention to the conversation. We were discussing strategies for breaking the Nut.

Gale suggested we create an avalanche, trapping everybody inside the Nut, murdering all the innocent people/ I honestly couldn't believe he'd suggested such a thing. Apparently neither could Katniss because she looked like he'd just slapped her; her mouth was an "o" of shock and her eyes were wide with horror. Hopefully now she'd realise she should be a little bit more careful about who she went around kissing.

There were mixed responses from the group to his plan, after all (as Katniss pointed out) the District 2 people were just innocent victims. I desperately wanted to pitch in with my own comments but for one thing I was afraid of changing the future and for another I didn't trust myself not to start yelling at the murderous man that was trying to tear my parents apart, getting me sent back to District 13 for misbehaviour. Luckily Boggs came up with a semi-sensible suggestion involving allowing some people to live and taking them as prisoners of war. I decided I liked Boggs.

That's why a day later I was stood with the other rebels around the square that housed the train station, waiting for Katniss to make a speech as the mockingjay. The avalanche had succeeded and she was going to try to convince the survivors to turn themselves in. Just as she began to talk the survivors started pouring out of the train station, they were battered, maimed and bruised and my heart went out to them. My Mother moved to protect one of them, going against her orders, and I suddenly felt very bad for getting so mad at her over the Gale thing. Everybody makes mistakes, and in that moment as she prioritised human life above all else I was so proud of her that anything she'd ever done wrong just seemed to melt away. She was so brave. I was so lost in thoughts about how wonderful my mother was and how wrong I had been that it wasn't until I heard the gun shot that I even realised anything had gone wrong. I re-focused my eyes on Katniss and saw blood blossoming on her uniform. No. I had to get to her. I was supposed to protect her. Then all hell broke loose.

I immediately started running towards Katniss, my gun in my hand, hoping to reach her and somehow protect her from incurring further harm. But I was thrown to the ground by the force of a gunshot tearing into my stomach. I screamed out in pain. But I don't think anybody could hear me in that chaos. I saw the man from district 2 that had shot me and knew that I could have sent a bullet from my own gun through his heart if I wanted to. I could take revenge on him. But that wasn't who I was; my parents would hate for their daughter to become a killer for no good reason. So I laid still and watched him run away. As I lay on that floor bleeding profusely and with people trampling all over me I genuinely believed I was going to die. Then Boggs appeared in front of me. He started yelling things at me that I think were meant to comfort me but I couldn't really hear him. Then he dressed my wound very quickly and lifted me into his arms. I tried to keep my eyes open, desperate not to die and leave Dylan behind. But no matter how hard I fought I felt myself losing a grip on consciousness.

Slowly, my world faded to black.

**[A/N: Reviews are greatly appreciated!]**


	15. Chapter 15

**[A/N: Ok I am SO sorry for taking so long to update. I had exams and writer's block and really have no good excuse for you all. Please forgive me and accept this new chapter as a peace offering thank you so much to everybody that's stuck with this story]**

**Chapter 15: On Your Own**

My head felt like it was on fire. I opened my eyes and the light flooding them made me think that maybe I actually _was_ blazing away. Was I dead? If so I must be in hell because there could never be this much pain in heaven. And there was something very wrong with my wrist . . .

"Peeta . . ."

What? The voice had come from my left and sounded vaguely familiar. I craned my neck towards it and blinked a few times, bringing the world into focus. The voice belonged to Katniss. We were in the hospital. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realised I wasn't dead, only to feel my ribs screaming in protest at the sudden movement.

"Peeta . . ." Katniss said again. I could see that her eyes were closed and her voice had a faraway quality to it; she must be dreaming. I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"She's been saying his name for about an hour now." Came a woman's voice from my right. The noise made me jump and I turned quickly to see who it was. When the movement made me scream in pain Johanna suppressed a smile.

"Careful Molly Dolly, you'll break your little limbs off."

"What happened to me?" I asked her.

"You got hurt in District 2."

"What . . .?" Oh. It was all coming back to me. The man, the gunshot, Katniss . . . "Will Mum- sorry Katniss- be alright?"

"Yeah, she'll be fine and so will you. Doctor says you've just got some head trauma and a few cracked ribs. You were very lucky."

"I don't feel very lucky. I've never been in this much pain before in my life." She looked down guiltily.

"Sorry, I'll um stop stealing your morphine."

"Johanna!"

"Hey, I said sorry didn't I? Anyway mummy keeps saying daddy's name in his sleep. That's nice isn't it?" I rolled my eyes at her cheap attempt to change the subject.

"I don't want to talk about my family." I told her, tiredly, thinking of Gale and Katniss's kiss. What did that mean? How much of what my parents told me had been lies?

"Sorry kiddo, listen I have to go but I'll be back in a bit ok?"

"Fine," I said, nodding meekly. She awkwardly squeezed my knee (I got the feeling she wasn't the touchy feely type) before bolting for the door. _Kiddo_ . . . The word ran round in my head, there was something I was missing; something important. A memory flashed back to me, a little blonde boy heading to his first day of school, me ruffling his hair and saying "be good kiddo". DYLAN. How was Dylan? Was he even still alive? I fumbled around trying to find the compact and breathed a sigh of relief when I found it safe and sound. "Argh!" I screamed out in pain as my fingers made contact with its surface. That thing was blazing hot. I used my duvet cover as a glove and opened it tentatively. Laurel's face was contorted with rage.

"Where _have_ you been?" She yelled at me. I winced at the loud noise.

"Unconscious," I answered truthfully. For a moment I thought she was going to ask me for more information, but then she just shook her head at me. There were a lot of things I hated about Laurel but her ability to respect the privacy of others definitely wasn't one of them.

"What did I miss?" I asked her. She bit her lip nervously. That was bad. Laurel was never nervous.

"I think you should watch the catch up they're about to air." She said quietly and looked away. I didn't argue. We were subjected to five minutes of Rosie Stanley detailing her latest kill to her allies before the catch up aired. It was about a minute before they showed anybody I was interested in. Caesar Flickerman's voice was far too cheery for this job.

"There we have Taylor Hawthorne and Macy Lowe setting up camp after their difficult three days." Had I been out for three days? "Let's recap their experience shall we." I saw them sitting with Ditzy Kelly and Dylan. Where was Dylan? Why wasn't he with them now? The screen switched to night. Dylan, Macy and Taylor were asleep, huddled together adorably, while Kelly sat on watch duty. A long knife glinted in her hand. "I just loved the gore of this death," Caesar said, excitedly. I wanted to punch him. Death? Who had died? Was it Dylan? I waited for somebody to attack the camp. Kelly stood up and turned around to face towards the area behind the sleeping trio. Had Rosie and her allies snuck up on them? They stood no chance of survival with Barbie playing Guardian. Rosie lifted the knife above her head; what was going on? Could she see somebody approaching that we couldn't? I realised who she was aiming for a split second before she stabbed Taylor in the back _literally_. This couldn't be happening. But Taylor wasn't dead Caesar had just shown him with Macy. Looking closely at the wound I realised it probably wouldn't be fatal. But then Rosie raised the knife again. Taylor's cries of pains though had woken up the children. Macy, who was much closer to Kelly than Dylan, tried, unsuccessfully, to snatch the knife out of the older girl's hand. This just caused Rosie to turn on her.

"Don't mess with me little girl . . ."

"Stop. Leave her alone." Came the voice of my baby brother. It probably would've sounded strong to anybody else but I heard the undertones of fear he was trying to hide.

"Do you wanna dance Little Mockingjay?" She sneered at him.

"Ruuun, r-run Dylan," Taylor gurgled from behind her. Dylan began backing out of the clearing, but not to save himself as I had hoped.

"Catch me if you can Big Belly Kelly," he said, turning to run into the woods. Kelly seethed at the insult; her perfect hair and nails told me she really cared about her appearance. I bet hours of ab crunches went into creating that perfectly toned stomach. I half expected her to laugh off the juvenile insult but she took it to heart and chased after my baby brother. Macy tried to follow her but caught her foot in a vine and fell, knocking herself unconscious. Tears of fear ran down my face as I watched the camera following Kelly as she followed Dylan. He was fast, but she was faster, and she'd almost caught up with him when he dived to the side unexpectedly. Kelly was going too quickly to stop and kept running for a few paces. Stepping on a mine which blew her to bits. That's what Dylan had stooped to grab at the Cornucopia! He'd always been good at physics he must have learnt how to re-wire a bomb at school and he must have known it was there. That was why he'd led her to that point! I felt relief wash over me. Kelly's was the death they were on about! Until the camera re-focused on Dylan. In jumping out of the way he had jumped off a forty foot cliff. He was lying at the bottom, twisted in directions humans were never meant to twist in. Caesar announced that he had been in that position since this incident, so for nearly three days and that Taylor and Macy, despite searching desperately, had yet to find him. A few more hours and he would be dead. I shut the compact. I had nothing to say to Laurel. Now I know how she had felt; it wasn't nice to think your brother may have died saving somebody else's.

I tried to curl into a ball but my body hurt too much so I just laid there and cried, trying not to think about my aching head and my wrist which still felt all wrong. All too soon my body ran out of tears and I just laid there in silence. Eventually I drifted into an uneasy sleep. When I awoke Plutarch was updating Katniss on the state of the rebel cause.

"Good morning Ms Trident," he greeted me with a smile. I stared at him blankly. He looked a little taken aback. "I have something of yours." He said, handing me a clear bag containing some sort of metal ball. It looked like somebody had bashed it in with a hammer then melted it into a crude sphere.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"Boggs said you were wearing it on your wrist but fell on it. Obviously you can't wear it on your wrist anymore but we figured it may have sentimental value so kept it anyway." No. I raised my wrist and realised what was wrong with it. I realised what was missing. Why my wrist had been feeling so strange. Because the wiress it was used to carrying was gone.

"No, my wiress, no . . ." I whispered in horror. I stared at the unrecognisable object in the bag.

"Wiress?" Katniss exclaimed in surprise. I ignored her. I was preoccupied. My wiress was broken. The only man that could have fixed it, Beetee, was dead and that was partially my fault. And without the wiress I had no way of getting home.

I sunk into the bed as it hit me. I was stuck here. Forever.

**[A/N: What do you think? I plan to update pretty soon, probably by the end of July please stick with this story I'm on vacation now so should be able to produce a lot more material thank you to everybody that's still reading this!]**


	16. Chapter 16

**[A/N: Thank you so much to everybody that reviewed your kind words mean a lot to me please keep reading!]**

**Chapter 16: One Door Closes**

"Molly? Are you . . . Ok?" Plutarch asked uncomfortably. I realised a traitor tear had slipped down my cheek and wiped it away quickly.

"Why is it a wiress?!" Katniss asked impatiently. I nearly snapped at her but the sight of her face made my breath catch in my throat. I suppose that in theory her eyes were my mother's eyes. But in practise they weren't. The shape and colour matched up of course, but this Katniss would never look at me with the transforming warmth and love of a parent in her eyes. It was torture being surrounded by people that looked like my loved ones, but had none of the care for me those people did. "MOLLY!" Katniss yelled.

"Katniss, give her a moment." Plutarch reproached her.

"It's fine," I mumbled. But it wasn't fine. I was never going home. I couldn't get my head around this time warp, what would happen now? Would Peeta and Katniss still have me as a little baby in a few years' time? Would I be able to watch myself grow up? Would that Molly one day disappear off into the past? Maybe then I could tell them who I really was. Maybe I should tell them now. No. If I ever wanted them to see me as a daughter I had to make sure that History wasn't changed so much that they didn't even have me. And if I told mum and dad now that they get married and have kids that may mess up their relationship. They clearly currently felt no emotion for each other, if they did mum wouldn't have been snogging Gale Hawthorne. "Wiress is just a silly name for it. Because it has . . . Wires." I said lamely. My lying was getting worse. I couldn't quite summon up the energy to care though. "Excuse me please." I said quietly, getting up from my hospital bed and exiting the room. I didn't know where I was going, just that I wanted to be alone. I tucked the wiress safely into the pocket of my dressing gown along with my compact as I took a left and headed down the rabbit burrows of District 13's hallways. I tried a few doors and eventually found what I'd been after. A small supply closet filled with dust and broken equipment that told me nobody would be coming in here anytime soon for work purposes. I finally sank to the floor and let myself cry. My little brother was slowly bleeding to death. I was trapped and alone. And every day for the rest of my life I would probably have to stare into faces that should recognise me, and accept that they didn't care about me. Katniss had proven that much; if my mum had seen a tear roll down my cheek she would have held me tight and sung to me. Instead Katniss harassed me. I sat there for a long time, breaking things, muttering desperate prayers and sobbing my eyes out. I was beginning to think I may be allowed to stay like that forever when the door opened.

"I knew I'd find you eventually," Peeta said, smiling as he knelt down at my side. He held out his arms and I fell gratefully into his embrace. As he stroked my hair I closed my eyes and filled my lungs with his musky, homey scent and for a moment I was able to pretend I was really home. Then he let go. "What's up cousin?" He asked, concern evident in his tone. I was wrong. Somebody here did care about me. "Plutarch said you were upset about your wirey?" He added, looking puzzled.

"Wiress." I corrected him. His eyes widened in shock. "What?" I asked him. "Does that mean something to you too?"

"Yeah, I had a friend called Wiress."

"Oh . . . Sorry." I said softly, noting his use of the past tense. "Yeah, my wiress was a sort of watch. It had sentimental value. I feel like I lost a more than it when it got broken you know." He nodded in a way that told me he understood perfectly.

"Well I have a job for you." He told me, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet.

"I don't want your pity work Peeta. I'd rather be left alone." I told him. It hurt me to call him by his first name.

"It's not pity work, it's a very important job." He told me, as he tugged me by the hand down the hallway. I considered pushing him away and going back to my crying. But then again very few people here seemed to care about me. I shouldn't push away anybody trying to help. I let him guide me to the kitchens where the work tops were littered with tubes of coloured icing and ingredients.

"We're baking?" I asked him.

"Yes, Annie and Finnick need a cake, I figured I could use an assistant for such a big job." For the first time all day I smiled. I loved baking with Dad. "Icing's pretty easy when you get used to it. I'll be able to teach you quickly."

"I actually have some experience icing cakes," I told him. "My Daddy taught me when I was too short to even reach the work surface by myself." I told him, thinking of the way he used to lift me up and place me on the counter top so I could join in with him. We got to work baking and icing, starting with cupcakes then moving onto the main three tier wedding cake.

"You're a pro Molly!" Peeta chuckled from behind me as I iced a wide smile on a mini Finnick I'd fashioned for the top.

"You made me mess up!" I exclaimed. The sound of his voice had surprised me and Finnick now had a mouth that stretched up to his scalp. Peeta burst out laughing when he saw it. He then reached out and gave my Finnick a tiny blue moustache. That made me laugh. "Thanks for bringing me down here Peeta I needed this."

"No problem, family has to stick together. We're all each other has." He told me, shrugging. I suppose that in the grand scheme of things that made me pretty lucky. Some people had nothing. Annie and Finnick came down at about 7pm to see how everything was going and were delighted with the cake. Finnick insisted on taking a photo of Peeta and I with it for the wedding album. I still felt the weight of my troubles in the back of my mind. But that night I was able to return to my room with a sense that there was still some good in the world. I had hope to cling onto. As I felt my compact burn in my pocket I prayed my small happiness would not be extinguished.

"How's Dylan?" I asked, as soon as Laurel's face appeared.

"Don't give me a chance to talk or anything . . ."

"Laurel," I growled.

"He's fine, chill Molly Dolly. Taylor and Macy found him and your parents sent him some medicine." I breathed a small sigh of relief. "But, I think you have some explaining to do."

"What?"

"Where are you Molly?"

"None of your business," I said, my tone turning sour.

She sighed and pulled out a battered old book. "Do you know what this is?" She asked me. I shook my head. "It's a photo album. It belongs to Annie Odair. She flicks through it every day as she grieves her husband. And as she flicked through it this evening, she noticed something had changed."

My breath caught in my throat as Laurel opened it to a page where a photo of me and Peeta beside a wedding cake was fastened to the book. I'd been so stupid. I wasn't supposed to leave any physical trace of my visit here that would make its way through to the future. Beetee had told me so. _Beetee_. His death had left an indelible mark on the future. But not one that could be traced so obviously back to me.

"Explain." Laurel demanded, setting down the book. "Now."

**[A/N: What do you think?]**


	17. Chapter 17

**[A/N: Thank you to everybody that reads and reviews my story! I write this because I love doing it but it's so nice to think other people might be enjoying it too I hope you like this chapter.]**

**Chapter 17: Clear as day**

For a few moments I just stared at her in shock. What was I supposed to tell her? What _could_ I safely tell her? It occurred to me that maybe she and her mother were more alike than I'd ever thought . . . They were the only people to have figured me out.

"I am waiting Molly."

"I can't think of how to start. I . . . Well I wanted Dylan back safe. Haymitch was talking to Beetee next door and they . . . There was a wiress . . . I was here . . . But now Beetee's not . . . My wiress broke . . ."

"Ok, stop Molly STOP. You're making no sense. Beetee is dead. What is a wiress? Where exactly is here?"

"I'm in the past Laurel. Beetee and Haymitch sent me here. So that I could stop the Hunger Games from ever happening."

"But Beetee's dead."

"He wasn't when I left. I . . . Messed up. Changed the future. Now he's dead. And the wiress that brought me here is broken so I c-can't," I felt my voice breaking and cursed myself for showing weakness in front of Lauren. "I can't g-get back."

"Oh Molly I'm so sorry. But surely if you keep living you'll eventually get back to the future?"

"Yeah but I'll be like fifty by then. I need my parents now. I want them to watch me grow up. They're so different here. They're not even together here mum was kissing Ga- . . . She was kissing somebody." I corrected myself suddenly realising Laurel may not want an account of her Dad's exploits.

"You were going to say Gale weren't you? My DAD and your MUM?! Seriously?!" I nodded. "Ewwwwwwwwww. The lips that kiss me goodnight have kissed the lips that kiss you goodnight. I think I'm going to be sick." I laughed at her. "So how are you going to save the future then Captain Molly? Numbers are getting dangerously low in the hunger games . . ."

"I know I have a plan. I've got to save Prim."

"Wait, your auntie Prim?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. That's cool. I thought about her earlier when one of the little girls on here was crushed under a falling wall. It reminded me of her death." Suddenly Caesar Flickerman's voice boomed out from behind her.

"Oh my! What is this? Such a twist!" Caesar exclaimed. Laurel twisted the compact so I could watch the screen. The focus was on my brother, Macy and my . . . I mean, Taylor. He wasn't _ my_ anything. Well he was my friend I guess. _Stop mind babbling Molly and watch_, I scolded myself. The cameras zoomed out and my stomach dropped as I saw Callum Lowe and Rosie Stanley approaching their camp. Little Macy was on watch duty but she looked too exhausted to be doing much watching.

"She's been on guard duty all day while the others recover from their wounds," Laurel told me in a voice that was barely more than a breath. "My brother's taken sleeping pills so won't be able to help, the pain was too much for him." For a moment all was still. I heard an owl hoot in a tree. I held my breath as I waited for the inevitable to come.

"ARRRRRGGGGHHHH!" Came Rosie's battle cry as she and Callum leapt out from the trees. Rosie went for Dylan and the camera followed Callum as he went for Taylor. Probably Taylor was seen as a more difficult and memorable kill than my baby brother. Callum raised a gleaming knife.

"No!" Laurel and I yelled. But ours weren't the only voices to say it. Callum Lowe yelled the word with us. He leapt to the right to shield Dylan with his body. Ok, I was confused. Wait! It wasn't Dylan he was shielding. It was Macy, who had come to put herself between Rosie and my little brother.

"Macy . . . No, run." Dylan choked out.

"The boy's right he isn't worth it, run," Callum chimed in.

"Callum! What are you doing? Our plan was always to kill Macy after these two anyway no point in saving her now . . ."

"No Rosie, _your_ plan was to kill Macy. Mine, was to kill these two then kill you. Then I could just kill myself and that'd make Macy the winner, we're the only ones left." My heart softened at his words. I'd truly believed he didn't care about Macy. I guess he was just a good actor. I felt for him; well, as much as you can feel for somebody that plans to kill your baby brother. Rosie was furious, but did what any sensible person would do when their ally turns and leaves them outnumbered and ran for it. Callum didn't chase her instead turning to Dylan. Macy and I realised what he was going to do at the exact same time. I screamed and moved as close to the compact as I could get as he bore down on my baby brother. Callum released his knife and sent it flying towards Dylan's chest. He didn't count on Macy throwing herself in the way.

"No," Callum whispered.

"No!" Dylan screamed, as he wrapped his arms around the little girl bleeding on top of him. Macy's eyes fluttered.

"I . . . Love you both." Macy whispered. "Win for me. One of you. Please." Then her beautiful eyes glassed over. Dylan closed them and sobbed into her stomach. I felt a sickening wave of relief rush over me that it was her and not him. Did that make me a bad person? Maybe? Or maybe it just made me a normal person. Taylor was still unconscious so unable to comfort Dylan. I wished I could hold him and sing to him and tell him everything would be alright. Callum bent down and pulled the knife out of his little sister. I couldn't imagine his pain . . . How would I feel if I'd killed Dylan? How could I possibly live with myself? I couldn't. And with that thought Callum's next move became apparent to me. Laurel gasped as he stabbed himself with the knife and dropped to the floor. I didn't. It wasn't a surprise. I'm not saying it was the right thing to do. If he'd been thinking straight he may have tried to help Dylan win as he clearly meant so much to Macy. But it wasn't a surprising thing for him to do. And as a girl whose brother was in the Hunger Games with Callum, this was a relieving move. The competition had thinned. Caesar showed us a reel of Macy's best moments. Then Callum's; he'd had a lot of kills. A boy named Jack stabbed in the throat. A girl called Jenny thrown off a cliff. An interesting young woman called Matilda with a bit of a squashed face who had tried to lure him into an alliance through flirtation (much the same as ditzy Kelly, I thought bitterly) but had been promptly beheaded by Callum as she slept that night. "Dylan Mellark and Taylor Hawthorne had a lucky escape today." Caesar claimed. I snorted. They were in an arena about to possibly be killed. Their friend was just murdered by her brother. They were _not_ lucky, in any sense of the word.

"Did somebody just say Hawthorne and Mellark?" Katniss asked as she burst into the room. I snapped the compact shut.

"No," I lied. She didn't look convinced.

"I know you're hiding something Molly, and someday I'll figure out what it is." A mother always knows . . . "But for now I have to go. Big meeting to do with the mission to the Capitol." Shoot. How had that come around so soon? Part of me wanted to go but I needed to stay here and make sure Prim did too. She was my main priority. Maybe Macy Lowe could be saved after all? The compact heated up in my hand and I opened it to reveal Laurel's face.

"Is that how you feel about Taylor?"

"What?" The question startled me.

"Like you'd take a knife for him? Is that how you feel about Taylor? Do you love him?"

"Love is such a strong word Laurel . . ."

"Not for most people, mostly just for you Molly. If there's any good that's come out of these games it's that they've made you open up a little more. For the first time you're realising how much you care about the people in your life. Now Kelly's out the way maybe if Taylor won you and he could . . ."

I was suddenly angry seeing what she was trying to do. "Don't try to win me around to the idea of your brother winning Laurel! My loyalty lies with Dylan. Also Taylor and I could WHAT? If I ever see him again it won't be until I'm like fifty!" I closed the compact. I was done talking to her. I felt my heart race as the terrible situation in the arena hit me . . . Taylor and Dylan were two of only three people left weren't they? That's what Callum had said. One of them would have to die soon. If not both.

**[A/N: Sorry if you prefer past stuff but I really felt this arena scene needed a chapter to itself the next one should be more Molly-centric. Also, I'm thinking of writing another one-shot like "growing up" about Molly and Dylan's childhood so if there's anything in particular you'd like to see let me know.]**


	18. Chapter 18

**[A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! Thanks to everybody that's sticking with me and my story I know where it's going and I'm not going to leave you hanging it may just take some time, soon it should be the winter holidays so that'll give me a little breathing space!]**

**Chapter 18: Let it Rain**

The next few days went ridiculously slowly. Things seemed to have stagnated in the arena, with the remaining tributes taking defensive decisions to regroup themselves. I told Laurel to stop calling me to show me the arena until something important happened. I couldn't bear watching my little brother grieve and not being able to help him. _No_, I corrected myself, _you can help him Molly. By saving Prim_. Katniss, Gale and co. were leaving tomorrow to help the rebels on the front line. I longed to go with them, but knew that I had to stick by my aunt and for now she was staying here. I'd used the rudimentary medical training I'd received from my grandma to get myself assigned to the nursing unit of District 13 and was now awaiting further orders. They were holding most of the medical staff back for now. That told me that they knew the greatest bloodshed was yet to come. I thought of studying the civil war in my History classes, of reading the massive figures of death tolls, casualties and the missing. They'd just been printed numbers on pages. Now I looked around me and saw so many bewildered faces and couldn't help but wonder how many of those innocent people were going to be one of those figures?

I thought about these things as I finished up the washing up, alone, in the dark kitchens. I sang to myself as I worked

_Are you are you coming to the tree where they hung up the man they say murdered three?_

The hairs on my neck stood up as I heard another voice join my song.

_Strange things did happen here no stranger would it be if we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

I spun on my heel and raised the saucepan in my hand to use it as a weapon. But stronger arms grabbed my wrists and pinned them behind my back. Katniss' eyes bored into mine with a fire behind them.

"Who. Are. You?" Her voice was low but soft. "How do you know that song?"

I could lie. But honestly I was getting tired of lying.

"I'm Molly. And I know it because, ummmm, my family used to sing it."

"Peeta's family don't sing songs like that. In fact, I only know two people that do. One of them is dead. And one of them is me." She shook me, and I stiffened myself to avoid wincing and showing my pain. I hadn't realised the significance of the song. I only knew that Mum sang it when she thought we couldn't hear her. "Who _are_ you Molly?" She sounded desperate now. Like the world was getting to be too much and if she could just win _this_ battle she was sure she'd be ok.

"I'm . . ." So many lies popped into my head. So I'm not sure why the truth popped out of my mouth. I suppose I was getting tired too. "I'm your daughter Katniss."

There was silence for a moment. Then my mother erupted in laughter. "Nice, now who are you really?"

"No, I actually _am_ your daughter! I swear I am."

"TELL ME THE TRUTH!"

"I AM!" My voice dropped to a whisper as I added. "Please believe me Mum." I felt tears welling in my eyes. "I'm so alone and I'm so scared. Everything rests on me and I keep messing up and . . . And I just . . . Everybody's going to die. And it's all my fault. I've lost everything. I need you to believe me. I need to have somebody please. I'm yours and Peeta's daughter!"

Katniss shoved me roughly against the counter and let go of me, I slumped to the ground, sobbing. I met her eyes and saw they too were filled with tears. "I wish people would stop messing with my head and would tell me the truth." She shook her head sadly and left. I heard the door to the kitchens slam behind her.

"You were telling the truth weren't you?"

I turned my head and blinked the tears out of my eyes. The door had been opened and framed a man's silhouette. I couldn't see his features but I could recognise his voice. "Finnick?" He came and knelt beside me, offering me a handkerchief.

"I slipped down to get a midnight snack, they do _not_ feed you enough here do they?" He smiled his charming smile at me and suddenly I understood why Annie was so broken. How could you lose a man like this and get over it? "You're from the future, right?"

"How- how did you know that?" I hated the way my voice sounded. So pathetic and young.

"Annie." He replied. "She sees things that other people don't . . . She called you future girl from the day you got here. Also the fact that you woke up in a room where the only interesting object was a trident and you just so happen to be called Molly Trident didn't slip _my_ notice . . ." He smiled at me again. "Do you need help with anything Molly?"

"I need help with everything . . . But I honestly don't think there's anybody that can fix my mistakes." Finnick pushed a small, wooden object into the palm of my hand. I held it up to the light.

"It's a holding cross. I never really believed in any of that stuff, but . . . Annie did. She takes a lot of comfort in that thought of a loving God. And I'm starting to think I'm seeing him reflected in her face. Sometimes, I see her prayers answered."

"How can you have hope when things are so bad?"

"If I didn't have hope I don't know how I'd cope with things being so bad." He replied. "Molly . . . The future is it . . . Better? Do things get better?" I considered lying. No. This man deserved the truth. He was about to lose his life. Could I tell him that. No, surely not? Maybe? Could I save him?

"Molly," he prompted me. We made eye contact and his eyes widened in understanding. "I die." It wasn't a question. It wasn't self-pitying. It was a statement of fact. He sounded accepting. That just made me feel worse. "But Annie, is she ok?" There was a desperate fire in his eyes now. I nodded.

"And the baby." I said quietly. His eyes widened in shock.

"Baby?"

"Annie's pregnant, she calls him Finnbar. Everybody calls him Finn . . . After you. He's brilliant. One of my best friends."

A smile lit up his face. "They're safe then, and happy?"

I thought about this. Was Annie happy? "She misses you terribly, but she loves Finn and us and . . . Yes. I'd say they're both very happy."

"Then that's all that matters." Finnick gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you Molly, for telling me, and don't worry your secret's safe with me." He got up to leave then turned around hesitantly. "When . . . If you see Finnbar again. Could you just tell him that I'm proud of him please. And that I love him?"

"Of course," I said softly.

"Thanks."

**[A/N: What do you think? Reviews are greatly appreciated! Sorry for the long wait I'll update sooner next time it's been a hectic term.]**


	19. Chapter 19

**[A/N: SORRY! I know it's been ages, I'll try to update faster next time, probably within a week or two. Also, check out my one-shot of Taylor and Molly as kids? It's called "That's what you get". Warning: it is quite cheesy.]**

**Chapter 19: Stop All The Clocks**

I don't know how long I sat on the floor for. Tears ran down my face as I thought of Finnbar and the father he'd never get to know. Everybody had always said Finnick was a good man. There was a fountain with a statue of him in the town square of district four where people knelt and prayed for his soul. It was clear he'd been universally adored. But there's such a difference between hearing people say "he was a good man" and seeing his goodness manifested in front of you. Maybe I could save him too? That wasn't part of my mission but maybe . . . I'd need to leave tomorrow with Katniss and co. though and I couldn't do that; I had to stay here and keep an eye on Prim. Stop her from leaving in whatever way I could. My skin was burning. Was that stress? I focused on the sensation and leapt up in horror. NO. It was the compact mirror burning me. I yanked it open and for a split second was terrified. Laurel's face was a picture of agony. "What's happened? Are they ok?! What's going on?!" I asked her. She stared at me in silence and shook her head slowly. She turned the compact so I could face the screen.

"And this is it my friends. The moment we've all been waiting for! Dylan and Taylor are about to execute their cunning plan." Caesar's voice was far too chirpy. The screen showed a clip from earlier of the two of them finding out where Rosie was camping, and agreeing to sneak up on her that night. It then switched back to the present, and I watched with bated breath as they crept up on her sleeping form. The only noise I could hear was the pounding of my own heart. They had to do this. They had to get Rosie out of the way eventually and this was a good time for it, they had the element of surprise. In the back of my mind I'd always known this moment was coming. But the what ifs crowded my mind, filling it with images of fallen tributes; dying children. Even if the best happened and they killed Rosie emerging unharmed. One of them would still have to die. My parents had been the exception. There can only be one victor.

Dylan stepped on a branch and the SNAP seemed to echo through the woods more loudly than a gunshot.

"Who's there?" Rosie yelled out, awaking with a start. Dylan was mouthing the word "sorry" to Taylor and tears were welling in his eyes. I wished I could reach into the screen and hug him.

"I said WHO'S THERE?!"

The boys were trapped. They were only a few yards from her, hidden in the bushes. She had ridiculously long legs and would probably out-run them if they made a break for it. Taylor leant in towards Dylan and whispered something to him. Caesar provided the audience with sub-titles:

"You run. I'll finish her and meet you back at camp."

Dylan was shaking his head. But Taylor had already started to turn towards Rosie. Dylan pulled on Taylor's arm and the older boy spun around to face him. He kissed my brother's forehead and whispered something else. The sub-titles appeared again, and I felt my body turn to ice.

"Tell Molly I love her."

He'd said it. He loved me. I was such a fool. In that moment I felt feelings welling for him, feelings that I think had been there all along, but that I'd been too afraid to admit to. I let out a sort of strangled sob and Laurel shushed me angrily. The boys hugged and Taylor began to count down from five on his fingers. Five. My head span. Four. My blood ran cold. Three. My vision began to blur. Two. I sent up a desperate prayer. One. I heard myself scream NO in unison with Laurel as Taylor rushed towards Rosie and Dylan ran for his life. Taylor raised a knife in his hand as Rosie grabbed a sword in hers and they charged towards one another. The sound as the metal collided was deafening in the quiet night. It was all so quick. I couldn't follow what was happening. The camera work was shaky and confused and suddenly Taylor's face was covered in blood. His shirt was covered in blood. No. No. No. No. This couldn't be happening. It began dripping down his legs. He was stepping away from Rosie. "No!" I screamed aloud.

"It's not his Molly." Laurel whispered. She sounded oddly calm and I looked at the picture again.

She was right. The blood was Rosie's. She sank to the floor, clutching her stomach and Taylor stared at her with a bewildered look in her eyes.

"You've . . . K-killed me." She choked out. She fell backwards and Taylor stepped forwards to grab her. He caught her in his arms and cradled her.

"No." He whispered.

"You're a m-murderer."

"No."

"I'm scared." Suddenly she wasn't some fierce warrior. She was a frightened little girl. She was somebody's daughter. Somebody's little sister. Somebody's friend. Somebody's love? "I want my parents. I want my s-sister."

"I'm so sorry." Taylor said softly, crying.

"I'm so c-cold . . ." Her eyes closed and her soul slipped away. Taylor let out a primal scream and collapsed to the floor, sobbing. I want to hold him, to tell him that he'd done the right thing. He'd had no choice. It was kill or be killed. His cries stopped suddenly, as he got up. There was a strange calm about him now and a smile on his face. He walked over to a bush and picked some berries.

"No!" Laurel yelled.

"What?!" I said, scared. "Why is he doing that? Is he hungry?" Then I recognised the berries. Nightlock.

Taylor lifted his eyes to the camera. It was like he was staring into my soul. "Laurel," he began. "I'm so sorry. Take care of yourself. May Dylan Mellark live a long and healthy life, as your victor." Then he swallowed them.

Laurel dissolved into screams and sobs. I felt myself do the same. Taylor laid on the ground, crossed his hands over his heart and closed his eyes. A few moments later the cannon sounded. How could this be happening? How could I realise I loved a man just to lose him moments later? I span into denial. This was all wrong. This couldn't be then end. This couldn't happen. It couldn't end this way. _No. No. No. No._

"I loved him." I whispered. Laurel faced me. She looked sad, but not angry, which I hadn't expected.

"I know." We sat in silence for a few moments. "So Dylan won." My heart lifted. That hadn't occurred to me. The camera switched to him and I saw him in a ball on the forest floor, crying. He must have heard the canons. He knew what they meant. I was filled with love and gratitude for Taylor. "Can you change this? If you save Prim?" Laurel asked. She sounded numb.

"Yeah." I replied. The thought filled me with hope and purpose. "Yes." I said, more confidently.

"Why haven't they announced Dylan as winner yet?" Laurel asked. That was a good point. Dylan seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Can I go home now?" He asked the night. "Please?"

A parcel floated down with a parachute. It was a cupcake of Dad's. Dylan didn't need this. And at this point in the game it would have cost my parents a lot to send. So why was it there Dylan read the attached note and his eyes widened in horror. He began to look around frantically. What was on that note?! What was going on?

Dylan grabbed a knife off the ground and held it in his trembling hands. He was holding it all wrong and I hoped he didn't have to use it. "Isn't everybody dead?" I asked Laurel. "I thought Taylor said he Dylan and Rosie were the last ones?"

"He did, but . . . Come to think of it I don't think Caesar ever confirmed that."

I watched the screen in horror. What was happening?

Dylan saw something in the bushes and angled his body towards it. He looked brave, but so small. A figure began to emerge. It was a girl. I had no idea who she was.

"Abigail." Dylan said softly. She smiled and raised a knife. Of course! This was Abigail Wood. The other girl from 12. The one I kept forgetting. Apparently I wasn't alone in that.

"Sometimes, being forgettable has its perks." She snarled. Then she leapt towards my little brother.

**[A/N: cliffhanger I know, sorry, but I couldn't resist. What do you think?]**


	20. Chapter 20

**[A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! They mean a lot to me. Here's the next chapter. Hope you like it . . .]**

**Chapter 20: With And Without You**

She leapt towards him and everything seemed to go in slow motion. She raised a knife and let out a battle cry. Dylan lowered his. _Why was he lowering it?!_ The cameras zoomed in and I watched as she got closer and closer to him. Her knife was nearly at his chest. Then he suddenly dropped to the ground. For a moment I thought she'd hurt him and that was why he'd gone down. But the horrified look on her face showed me that she hadn't expected it. _He'd dodged. At the last minute._

I remembered how fast he'd always been when we were kids, playing tag. Maybe he could beat this girl alone after all? He started to run away from her. Good. Away was good.

"Oh dear . . ." Came Caesar Flickerman's voice. What? What was happening. The camera was shaky and was running alongside Dylan's head. I could see sweat pouring down his face and Everdeen determination wrinkling his brow. He kept pushing on. Abigail was behind him but he seemed to be out-running her still. I started to get hopeful. And, as always, that was when everything collapsed.

I saw Dylan turn his head to look back at Abigail. He managed to dodge quickly as she threw a knife past his left ear, and keep running. Then I watched as horror filled his little face. It seemed like everything was going in slow motion. Why was he afraid? What did he know that we couldn't see yet?

He looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he had, you never knew with the games.

And then he fell.

The camera zoomed out. Dylan had slipped off the edge of a cliff face. It was a sheer drop of about twenty feet into a river below. "NO!" I was yelling and leaning as close to the screen as I could get. I watched his little form fall into the water with a splash. Abigail cheered. She had won.

Or had she? The camera followed Dylan downstream until he was washed up on a river bank and Caesar brought up Dylan's vital stats. He was alive, but barely. However, he was now a good three miles away from Abigail. Maybe he'd have time to recover? Caesar unhelpfully informed us that it would now be "a matter of waiting" and I stared at the screen, dumbfounded. How had this happened? Taylor gone. Dylan struggling for his life. It was like it hadn't sunk in yet.

My mind swam with images of Taylor Hawthorne. His smile. His laugh. The feel of his arms around me. The look of determination on his face when he was announced as tribute. The way he said my name. He always dragged out the "Mo" making it more "moooooolly" than "Molly". I used to get annoyed by it. Now I'd do anything to hear it again. I ran my hands over the compact mirror he'd given me. Laurel was saying things. She was crying. Maybe I was crying. I touched my cheeks. No, they were dry. Why wasn't I crying? Shouldn't I be crying? Laurel was still saying things. But I couldn't make out the words.

"I have to go." I said. My voice sounded calm. Eerily so. I think it hadn't sunk in yet. I was in shock. The tears would come eventually. But for now I was just empty, and in total denial. I ran my hands over the compact Taylor had given me what felt like a lifetime ago, and closed it carefully, then I stood up and left the room. I walked down hallways. Don't ask me which ones; I think we've established by now that I was NOT paying attention to anything. Until I felt his arms grab me. They held me firm. I looked into his eyes. He was here. He was shaking me. That wasn't very nice of him.

"Taylor stop."

"Who's Taylor? What on earth are you doing out here? What's going on? Molly? Answer me."

"Taylor stop."

"I'm not Taylor, I'm Gale." Oh. He was Gale. And suddenly I hated him. For not being Taylor. For the fact that nobody was Taylor anymore. Because Taylor was gone. I shoved Gale away, turned around and stormed off.

And then . . . An impulse pulled me back. I knew he wasn't Taylor. I knew the similarities between them were superficial at best. And I knew this wasn't a good idea. But I felt reckless; untouchable. I felt as if it must be impossible for life to be any worse than it was at that moment in time, so I was willing to do anything. Because I knew that I couldn't hurt any more than I already did. I strode up to Gale Hawthorne, pulled his lips to mine, and kissed him like I would have kissed Taylor if I'd had the chance. At first he seemed surprised and frozen. Then he kissed me back hungrily. I felt the tears start to come and Gale pulled back.

"What's wrong Molly? What can I do to help?" The truth. I should tell him the truth. _Your son from the future just died and I loved him and my brother might die too and I'm alone and hurt and scared._

Ok, maybe I shouldn't tell him the whole truth.

"Prim." I said. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. Maybe he was waiting for a declaration of love. I hoped not. I can't believe what I'd just done. I'm sure I'd feel sick about it later.

"Yeah . . ." He prompted. Oh right. I had to keep talking.

"Prim is going to die. A bomb's going to kill her."

"A bomb?" He asked.

"Yeah, they have these double exploding bombs. It's your fault really. You created them. You and Beetee. And one of them's going to kill her."

"Molly, stop. How do you know about those bombs?"

"JUST TRUST ME WILL YOU." There were tears running down my face. I was waving my arms. I probably looked quite crazy.

"Molly, those bombs don't exist."

"They do."

"No, Molly, we were trying to create them, but we failed, Beetee died before we could perfect the system. We have single-exploding bombs and I'm sure Snow is the same. Now tell me how you knew about the bombs."

What? What was going on? How had this not occurred to me. The bombs didn't exist. I'd wiped them out when I got Beetee killed. Then . . . How DID Prim die? She must still have died? Right? Yes, I remembered Laurel referring to her death a few days ago. This made my job a lot harder. And hard was so not what I needed right now.

**[A/N: What do you think? Reviews are greatly appreciated! It's always lovely to hear people's responses to chapters.]**


	21. Chapter 21

**[A/N: WARNING THERE IS VIOLENCE IN THIS CHAPTER, I'M NOT SURE QUITE HOW IT WOULD BE RATED BUT PLEASE DON'T READ THIS IF YOU THINK IT'LL OFFEND YOU. Thank you for the reviews and for sticking with the story!]**

**Chapter 21: Spiralling**

I shoved Gale out of the way. I needed to be alone. He clearly wasn't going to help me.

"Where are you going you crazy girl?!" He yelled after me. "Women are such teases. You're all as fickle and insane as each other. Prim ain't dead. There's no such thing as a double bomb. ARE YOU LISTENING? Come back." He was yelling after me, but he wasn't following me. Can't have been that bothered.

I turned a few corners and found a corridor that seemed empty. I started trying door handles. I needed to be alone. One opened and revealed a small room full of cleaning supplies; perfect. I settled myself on the floor, using the bottom of a mop as a cushion, and opened my compact. Laurel opened hers within seconds.

"What the heck are you playing at Molly Dolly?!" I was taken aback. Why was she mad?

"Laurel, I-" she cut me off.

"No. My BROTHER dies. Proclaiming his undying love for YOU. No mention of me; his own flesh and blood. And then your brother survives. And you DARE to hang up on me and run off like you have some right to be upset?! I'VE LOST EVERYTHING. I didn't even get a goodbye from him." She broke down into tears.

"He loved you Laurel. You knew that. But I didn't know he loved me. That's why he had to say it." I sounded calmer and wiser than I felt.

"I don't know, sometimes I wonder. He never opened up to me the way he opened up to you. I remember eavesdropping on a phone call you guys had a few months ago. He was telling you about some oak leaf that meant the world to him. I didn't even know that thing existed." I remembered. I'd found it under his pillow a few days before and had brought it up on the phone. He'd told me this story about how he'd gone camping with his family and mine when he was four and had fallen out of a tree. He'd always been afraid of heights but that day his fear had ended, because he'd fallen and he'd been ok, so he kept the leaf as a reminder of that. Of the fact that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

_What doesn't kill you_ . . .

"That was a daft example." Laurel continued. "But it's the point that counts. You knew him better than I did." _Knew_. Past tense. I felt sick.

"We can save him Laurel. He won't die." She looked at me like I was crazy. "How did Prim die?"

"I thought you knew."

"I thought I knew too. But apparently not."

"She was crushed. A wall fell on her. That's why I said that thing about the girl getting crushed in the hunger games reminding me of her. How can you not even know how your own aunt died?" I rolled my eyes.

"That's not important right now. Which wall. Where? When?"

"Ummm . . . Not sure. She was in the Capitol and some kids had been bombed and she went to help them and then she ran off after somebody. And a wall collapsed. And she died." I was literally going to have to follow Prim around to save her. Which could be difficult in the middle of a war zone . . . How was I even going to get to the Capitol? District 13 wouldn't send me unless I started training and I think it was too late for that.

"Maybe I should just abduct her? Prim's going to die soon. I need to get her out of the way."

BAM. A blow to the back of my head sent me flying across the room. My vision went blurry but I managed to maintain consciousness. I could hear footsteps approaching me. I needed to get up. I needed to fight. I started coughing and saw blood coming up out of my throat. I tried to push myself up but a jabbing pain in my arm sent me to the floor; it was probably broken. I felt somebody land a kick on my side.

"St-stop." I begged.

"What? So you can kill my sister?! I KNEW WE COULDN'T TRUST YOU!"

I recognised that voice . . . I was getting beaten up by my own mum. This was so bad. I had to explain. Why did she think I was going to kill Prim?! I played back my last words to Laurel: _Prim's going to die soon. I need to get her out of the way_. Katniss must have heard and assumed I was plotting against Prim. "N-no. S-save her. Save Prim."

"Yeah I am trying to save her." Katniss said, pulling me up by the scuff of my neck and dragging me out into the corridor.

"N-no, me save her. Y-your daughter."

"She's not my daughter. She's my sister."

"N-NO." I'd never been in this much pain before in my life. I felt as if every part of me was broken. I'd thought I couldn't hurt more than I already did when Taylor died. But physical pain is different to emotional pain. You can fight a broken heart with hope and distraction. This throbbing and burning was ever-present. How was I still conscious? And where was Katniss taking me? I tried to speak again but she stuffed a rag in my mouth.

"Be quiet. The last thing I need is them hearing this and stopping me from going to the Capitol."

Part of me hoped she killed me.

No. Then all hope of saving Taylor and Dylan would be gone. I had to survive. I was the last chance. I had to go on. I made a feeble attempt to shake myself out of Katniss' grip and was rewarded with a further blow to my head. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth made me feel sick. Suddenly I was lifted into Katniss' arms. Maybe she was going to lay me on a hospital bed? Maybe she believed I was now hurt enough to not be a threat to Prim? I prayed that was the case but in my heart I knew my mother too well for that. She wouldn't let somebody she believed threatened a loved one live. I tried to argue my case but the rag stopped me. My eyes widened in horror as I saw she was approaching the escape staircase; a spiralling set of stairs that went down ten floors.

"Goodbye Molly." This woman wasn't my mother. I had to keep reminding myself of that. This Katniss didn't know me. _I miss my mum_. I closed my eyes, and she threw me over the edge.

Everything went black.

**[A/N: I know things are pretty dark at the moment but please stick with the story! There should only be a few more chapters and I know where I want this to go, reviews, as always, are really appreciated!]**


	22. Chapter 22

**[A/N: Thanks to everybody for reading and especially to those that reviewed! This chapter's a bit longer than the others and may be a bit different **** hope you like it!]**

**Chapter 22: The Unknown**

**LAUREL'S POINT OF VIEW**

"Maybe I should just abduct her?" Molly said. The idea of Molly Dolly abducting anybody was laughable. She couldn't hurt a fly. Literally. I remember when she'd had a fit at our house because I'd squashed a wasp. She'd started crying and Taylor had started yelling and it all ended in me getting grounded for nothing.

_Taylor_. I kept thinking about him as if he were here then remembering he was dead. My big brother was gone forever. And he'd wasted his last words on this prissy little nitwit babbling away at me. "Prim's going to die soon. I need to get her out of the way." That was true. She could've phrased it in a little less of a threatening way though! I must say I think Molly wasn't putting her all into this mission. I mean, she'd been there for aaaages. If it were me I would've drugged Prim on day one and hidden her away somewhere. Haymitch totally should've sent me. I mean my brother was in the Hunger Games too. _Was. Taylor's dead._

I was about to start wallowing when . . . I saw something. There was a shadow behind Molly . . . I think it was a person.

I opened my mouth to warn her but my cry was cut off by the sound of something heavy connecting with Molly's head. Was that Katniss?! It couldn't be. This was so bad. I had to help her.

"Stop!" I yelled. But as I opened my mouth the compact slammed closed; I think Katniss had stood on it. Oh no. No no no no no. This was not happening. This could not be happening. If that idiot let herself die I was going to kill her. She was Taylor's last hope. He was counting on her. I was counting on her (God help me). I kept my compact open but it was no use, nobody was opening it.

_She'll be fine_. I told myself. She's strong. She can take Katniss. _She'llbefine She'llbefine She'llbefine_. The words got more hollow every time I repeated them in my mind. Katniss was a warrior. She was a survivor. But why had she targeted Molly? I replayed Molly's last words. Oh. Shoot. I suppose that could sort of sound like she was threatening Prim.

"MOLLY!" I started yelling at the compact. "MOLLY OPEN THIS BLOODY THING. Where are you?! Katniss! If you're there open this!" It was no use. The compact stayed closed. I sat there, staring at it, for what felt like an eternity. Why hadn't Molly come back for the compact? What was going on? Could she be . . . No, I couldn't bring myself to think it. Because if she were gone that would mean Taylor was really gone too. And I couldn't lose him. _Or her_ a little traitor voice in the back of my mind added. Much as I hated to admit it, I did have some small (_very_ small) affection for Molly. And that blow looked painful. I didn't want her suffering, or dead, or anything else like that. I wanted her to be safe and back here, with Taylor, teasing me like the two of them always did. With Dylan boring us all with historical and scientific facts like the freakish little geek he was. I wanted my life back. I felt water running down my face. I totally wasn't crying. Laurel Hawthorne doesn't cry. I was probably just sweating. From my eyes.

"Laurel!" I heard my Dad calling to me. "Laurel, quick come through. Something's happening with the games! Do you want to watch it in your room like you usually do or are you going to come and be sociable and watch it with your parents?" Mum and Dad had never cared about me watching it with them before. In fact they'd encouraged me to watch it on my own. I think they didn't want me to see how much pain they were in seeing Taylor on that screen. But now he was gone, and I was all they had left, they wanted my company. I wiped my eyes, and picked up the compact, keeping it open. If Molly opened hers I'd have to run to my room and watch it there. But I had a feeling she wasn't going to.

Caesar Flickerman's voice was, as ever, far too jolly. "Looks like we have some excitement ladies and gentlemen!" Abigail was climbing down the cliff face to get to Dylan. He'd recovered enough to drink from the water near him and eat surrounding plants but was in no shape to fight. If she caught him, I knew he'd die. Great. Just what we needed. Another kid dead. _No, Molly isn't dead_. At least, I hoped she wasn't. Abigail was getting close to ground level. I felt guilty for it, but I was so hoping she died. That was the worst thing about the hunger games, well second worst to all the kids dying; that it turned the audience into murderers too. She was getting close to where Dylan was.

_Hi God, you know I don't think you're real, but Taylor did and Dylan does and I'm pretty damn, sorry I meant, pretty darn desperate right now. So please don't let Dylan die. Amen._

Abigail was inching closer. Dylan didn't even seem to have noticed her.

_Hisssssss._ What the? What was that?! Something came up out of the bushes and grabbed Abigail's leg. It looked like some sort of genetically engineered snake. Caesar gave us some background info and explained that its bite could kill within minutes. And it had certainly bitten Abigail. Her leg was covered in blood. "YES!" I cheered, jumping out of my seat. My parents gave me exasperated looks. "Oh come on, like you guys weren't thinking it!" I smiled at them. It was a weak smile, but a smile all the same.

"If it weren't for that Everdeen boy my son would still be alive." Dad said sharply, turning to the screen.

"Mellark Dad, not Everdeen."

"They can change their name but they can't change their blood." Dad replied. I'd never seen him this cold before. After Taylor died Mum and I had cried together. But Dad had just been stone the whole time.

"You can't think like that Dad. Taylor wanted him to live."

"Because Taylor had been brainwashed by that fool of a girl."

"DON'T TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT!" Whoa. I was surprised at my reaction. I'd thought I hated Molly. But . . . She'd done nothing wrong. "She would do _anything_ to get Taylor back. She loved him, you're an idiot." Dad stood up angrily. He looked like he might hit me. I'm sure he wouldn't, but . . . He looked like he might. Mum grabbed his arm.

"What did you call me?!"

"Gale, stop."

Caesar Flickerman's voice interrupted our dispute. "What on earth is that boy doing?" He'd crawled over to where Abigail lay bleeding and was singing softly to the snake, keeping it at bay. He'd always been good with animals. For a moment I thought he was pouring salt on her wounds and hurting her or making her bleed out faster. But the cameras zoomed in and I realised he was dressing it.

"Why is he doing that?" Dad asked.

"Why are you doing this. I tr-tried to k-kill you." Abigail echoed my father's query.

"I don't know." Dylan said. "It doesn't make sense, but . . . I just don't want to watch anybody else die."

"You d-deserve to win." Abigail stuttered. "You c-can't save me anyway." Her eyes were fluttering closed. I hated this. I hated that I wanted this little girl dead.

"It should've been Taylor or Macy. I . . . I'm nothing on my own." He started crying and I felt a desperate need to hug him. Abigail's eyes closed. The cannon sounded. Dylan dissolved into sobs as he was announced victor and lifted up. That was it. He'd won. The game was over. I felt numb. But I knew this was good. Not good enough, but good.

I had to tell Molly.

Things in the aftermath of his victory were a blur. Three days later he was crowned. A day after that he went back to District 12 with Katniss and Peeta. They, of course, returned expecting to see Molly. But she wasn't there. My family went over to join theirs and Dylan ran up to me and hugged me as soon as he saw me.

"That was for Taylor." He told me. As if I could pass it on. Stupid kid. I hated him a bit. But that didn't stop me smiling at him and clinging to him. "Laurel, have you heard from Molly?" Oh no.

"No, honey, sorry. Do you know where she is?" I sounded so fake.

"She's gone." He said, a tear slipping out of his eye. "We came back to find Daisy'd been living with Haymitch. He says he doesn't know where she is."

"Who's Daisy?" I asked, confused, and hoping to change the topic.

"My cat." Dylan looked outraged that I'd forgotten.

"Oh, right, sorry." It was interesting that Haymitch was keeping his mouth shut. Didn't want his part in their daughter's disappearance known I suppose. He probably didn't know about my contact with her. In fact . . . Beetee had died. So there was now nobody to make the wiress. Molly and anything she took back with her weren't affected by changes to the future but we were. Maybe Haymitch honestly had no memory of sending her back in time, because this Haymitch hadn't done it in this version of the future? Thinking about it made my head hurt. I may be the only person here who knew where she was. Should I tell them? But right now I had no clue if she was alive or dead. I couldn't console them or explain to them.

I decided to stay quiet, and I carried the compact with me everywhere.

It was another fortnight until somebody on Molly's end opened it. I jumped a mile when I looked into the compact at 4am one night and saw a face staring back at me.

"Hello? Who are you?" I asked. It was an old woman. Maybe time passed differently there and this WAS Molly?!

"Sae." Ok, not Molly. "Most call me Greasy Sae." I could see why. She was very greasy.

"Where's Molly Mellark?"

"You mean Molly _Trident_?" Sae said, winking and laughing at me. I really wanted to punch her. "Is this hers? I found it on the floor a week ago. Pocketed it and only just opened it. And there's a person it! Where are you speaking from?"

"Is Molly alive? Give this back to her."

"Can't."

"Is she dead?" I held my breath.

"Nah. Well maybe. She's gone to the Capitol."

"WHAT?!"

"She was found unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. She was beaten up but alive. Doctors gave her some medicine. But then they were all shipped out to the Capitol. And we found one of them bound and tied in the cupboard. She claims Molly stole her ID and clothes. Went to the Capitol in her place. It's all very funny. Don't know why she'd want to go there. Probably suicidal. She was healed but not completely. Shouldn't even be walking really."

"Where in the Capitol is she?! Could you get a message to her?" Sae laughed again.

"The fighting's begun now Missy. Nobody knows where anybody is in the Capitol. She's probably dead already. Most of them are."

I snapped the compact shut. I thought around the issue over and over. But kept coming up blank. There was nothing I could do. No way to tell Molly everything was ok with her brother. And did I really want her to know? If she thought she was fighting to save Dylan she may work harder and save Taylor. She might not do this for my brother alone. No, I had to tell her. But I couldn't. It was out of my hands. It was up to her now. _Don't mess this up nitwit_.

**[A/N: Thoughts? Updating may take a little longer now as I'm going back to college but we've only got a couple of chapters left! Please subscribe/review/keepreading!]**


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